


The Lion's Pride

by Clicker



Series: A Song of Gold [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Fluff, Light Smut, Violence, a song of ice and fire - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:35:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 33
Words: 85,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23690041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clicker/pseuds/Clicker
Summary: You're on Daenerys' side, ready to help her with her cause, that is until she makes certain threats
Relationships: Jon Snow/Reader
Series: A Song of Gold [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705960
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

“A raven, flies from the north, to the sea. A dragon whispers her name in the east. The watcher waits on the northern wall. A daughter, picks up a warriors sword. A brother, bound to a love, he must hide. The younger’s armor is worn, in the mind. A cold, iron throne, holds a boy barley grown. And now it is known. A claim to the prize, a crown, laced in lies. You win, or you die.”

Her eyes were shut as her head rested in your lap. Her light weight gold dress spread around her short chubby legs and her dark curled hair around her ears.

She was so easily put to sleep by your singing as you had once been with your own mother’s singing. She would hold you like you were holding your own daughter. Your head would be in her lap and she would have a hand brushing through your hair and another resting on your slowly rising and falling chest as your eyes would flutter shut.

The wheel house shook with every stone or dip you went over. Tyrion was standing a few feet away from you, his finger in his wine glass and Varys just staring at him like he had grown another head.

“There’s a bug.” Tyrion stated.

Your hand stroked through your daughter’s hair as you looked at him curiously. He’d been drunk the past few weeks. Ever since you had gotten him out of the disgusting crate and greeted him with Pentos.

“Yes, best be careful. You might accidentally consume some solid food.” Breathed out dramatically.

You rolled your eyes, gently scooping up Lucia and placing her in her own area and covered her with the blanket you’d brought from King’s Landing. It felt like a lifetime ago. It had been months. From sailing from there to Pentos. Your hair had grown out from your shoulders to you mid back.

That was one of the stranger things about you, that had been passed onto to Lucia. Your hair grew freakishly fast. You could grow almost four inches within a month. Something your sister had envied of you.

“When I agreed to come with the you two, did I misrepresent my intentions?”

“I do believe you said you would come only because you could die drunk on the way?” You asked passive aggressively

“Yes! Besides, what else is there for me to do inside this fucking box?”

You crossed your arms leaning back against the wall of the wheel house and gave Tyrion a look.

“You don’t like it?” You knew damn well he didn’t like to be cooped up for hours at a time. He always was the type of man who needed his room. You assumed that was why he liked the tower of the hand so much when he lived there in your late grandfather’s stead.

“I want to take a walk.”

You scoffed and shook your head standing up and walking past Tyrion, grabbing your own cup of wine. You poured the dark red liquid into the golden cup and sat down next to Lucia again not really paying attention to their conversation.

“Cersei has offered a lordship to anyone who bring her your head. And one to whoever can bring Y/N and Lucia home. Alive.”

“She ought to offer her cunt.”

“Tyrion.” You warned.

* * *

Lucia was playing. Her doll and rose in hand as she sat on the ground. Happily as you watched her and Tyrion looking at her wishing he could find such joy in small things like she could. And Varys had begun to take out the thing he had been lugging around since he boarded the ship in King’s Landing

He walked over to you with it in hand and held it out for you to take. “It was something for your 19th name day. But I thought you’d like it now.”

You looked at the tightly wrapped stick like object and took it from him slowly unwrapping it from the linens he’d put it in.

You were greeted with the pommel of a sword. Lannister gold. And jewels around it. Pulling it from the wrapping it exposed more and more of the hilt of the sword.

Widow’s Wail.

This was Joffrey’s sword. The one he’d destroyed Tyrion’s book with.

The one made from Ned Stark’s sword.

“What?”

“It shouldn’t be waisting away with Joffrey in the crypt. It deserves to see some sort of battle. Wether it be you deciding to chop a rat’s head off, or a traitor’s.”

You smiled and nodded. “Thank you Varys.”

You stood up taking the sword out with it’s sheath and with the strap to attach it to waist, you wrapped around and tied it on your hip.

* * *

“We’re not going for a walk.” You said sternly holding Lucia’s head to your chest, she played with your necklace and hair.

“We’re all going for a walk, she needs sunlight. Before she becomes so pale she’s see through. You too. We’re in the east, you should be tanner than that.”

You shook your head as Tyrion stepped out of the wheel house with fabric over his head to ‘disguise’ himself. Huffing you set Lucia down on the bench and grabbed your cloak as well as Lucia’s, dressing you both and following out after him.

You’d followed Tyrion out of the wheelhouse and through the streets of Volantis. One of the cities you’d have to pass through to get to Danaerys Targaryen and Mereene.

Tyrion had his usual snakiness about a red priestes you’d come across on the streets, and Lucia had walked like any other child would. Stumbling and making it annoyingly loud about their feet scuffing the ground every time she walked forward.

“Pick up your feet, Snow.”

“Okay, mama.”

* * *

“Pick up your feet, Snow!” You yelled at him throwing a clump of dry dirt at him.

He was dragging them against the ground every time he stepped and it was beginning to get on your nerves, and he knew it.

He turned to you when the clump of dirt flew past him.

“That’s not very princess like.” He replied with a smile of amusement.

You playfully glared at him and hit his chest going to walk past him. But he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his chest. Your back against his chest and his cold nose against your neck. You didn’t care. You just let him hold onto your wrist and hip as he spoke.

“How would your mother feel about the fact that you threw dirt at a bastard? How would your father feel about the fact you threw dirt at Ned Stark’s bastard?”

You shrugged slightly and intertwined your fingers with his. “Don’t know.” You teased.

His breath raked across your neck before he playfully bit your neck.

You shoved him away from you laughing before you picked up your dress and began running through the woods.

* * *

“Never known you to call a Storm a Snow.” Tyrion pointed out.

You hadn’t even noticed. You didn’t know that you had just called Lucia, Snow. Not that it was a bad thing, it just slipped from your lips.

“Sorry. Something I said to her dad.” You replied leaning down to pick her up and carry her, the sound of her shuffling feet beginning to get on your nerves. You walked with Tyrion and Varys all the way up to a building where a man stood outside the door.

He had a beard that was split and put into two braids and a bald head. He reached out for your uncles head and rubbed it. You looked at the man strangely and raised your brow as he spoke in Valaryian, which you vaguely understood.

It was good luck to pat a dawrf’s head? Bullshit. You were calling it.

“Yes. And it’s good luck to suck a Dawrf’s cock.”

You closed your eyes in exasperation as Lucia rested her head on your shoulder.

When you were allowed into the building it didn’t take long for you to realize it was a brothel. The women trying to get whatever man was in front of them to take them to a private room. It was their job. They were half naked. Cotton barley covering anything, leaving everything to be seen.

Of course you didn’t want to teach Lucia to be ashamed of the naked body, it was something everyone had. Your mother hadn’t cared it you striped down completely just a bit prematurely for a bath. You couldn’t care less if a woman decided to walk down the streets of Volantis without a dress. Your problem was the fact that these where men and women, practically having sex in front of Lucia, who had recently become hyper aware of everything and would ask about everything.

“Tyrion! Why are we here? Lucia can’t be here!”

He turned to you to see Lucia with her brows furrowed and her face in your neck, cloak over her head to protect from whoever wanted to return you to the queen mother.

“I’m sure they have an area just for the bastards of these women. Go have her play with them.” He suggested

There was always one problem, something you deeply regretted. Not that it was your fault, or Loras’ or Jon’s.

She was an only child.

It was never a big deal. She always had you or someone else in your family to play with her. Sansa played dolls with her as often as she could, Loras loved to play with the wooden rose. And of course Lucia always found her way over to a fire and played in it like it was water. But she’d never played with other children.

You supposed thats why you had been better off than some. You had three siblings growing up and you always played with them. You played dolls with Myrcella, you chased Tommen, and you and Joffrey used to play with wooden swords. Of course you ended up with nasty bruises afterwards, Joffrey had always found it funny to push you around and hit you with something.

Lucia was shy. Even more so since you left King’s Landing. She’d never really left the castle. You hadn’t left the castle. Lucia was too small to remember the time you’d been in High Garden. That had been for your wedding to Loras. She had been kept with Miza most of the time who she’d always been found of.

You were slowly coming to a realization, she’d never been socialized with different people. The most she knew was the gold and red hair of people in King’s Landing. She’d never really seen someone who looked like her. Who had her hair or her eyes. Never had she met someone her own size and age.

But you’d just sat down next to Tyrion. You didn’t take her to find the other children. You’d sat and held her. You didn’t know why but you didn’t know why. Maybe it was what Jaime said was ‘the lioness protecting her baby cub.’

Lucia never had a scratch on her. Not from someone’s nails, not from falling.

A woman with a tanner complexion than your own walked over with drinks for all of you. She handed Tyrion a cup of wine, then Varys, then you. You hesitantly took it from her and took a sip.

You’d never been in a brothel before.

You’d never left Westeros before. Or even went more south than King’s Landing. You’d only ever gone north.

A woman walked past you. In a blue dress. If it could even be called a dress, it allowed all of her rear to be shown. And she was pale, with… silver hair

“Curious hair.” Tyrion stated out loud

She turned to look at him before a man shouted out

“The mother of dragons!”

Oh. Okay. That’s what she was doing. She’d be hung in Westeros if she did that. If it was your mother she was portraying.

“Is that the queen?” Her muffled voice made it hard to hear, but you could make it out.

“No.” You answered right before Tyrion began speaking

“It appears you two aren’t the only Targaryen supporters.”

Tyrion got up once he spotted a woman he considered ‘suitable’ and began to walk over “Where are you going?” Varys asked

“To speak to someone who has hair, and that’s not gold, and who can have more than a five word conversation.”

That covered all of you. Varys bald, you, golden hair. Lucia, barley competent to hold a conversation.

“Hungry.” You heard her speak.

“I know, love. We’ll get some food in you in a little while.”

She nodded and rested her head against your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat. Her hood to her cloak to large on her head it came over her face and covered everything. All she could see was a deep dark blue.

“I’m going to get her some food. Will you watch her?”

Varys nodded and smiled as Lucia moved the hood to look at the eunuch. She was for some unknown reason, very found of him. Wether it was because of his attitude or the sly remarks he made that often made her giggle. She wasn’t easy to make laugh.

You gave him a smile and set her on her own two feet before standing up and kneeling in front of her

“Now, I want you stay in his line sight, I don’t want anyone but him or Tyrion speaking to you, If someone tries to touch you, lead you away or talk to you, you run and find Tyrion or Varys. If you find yourself lost and you can’t them yell for them. Don’t move from here, I’ll be back.” You said pushing the curls from her forehead and kissing her head before leaving the brothel and walking to find some type of food. She liked fish. Something you’d discovered on your voyage from King’s Landing to Pentos.

You made your way to the docks and began to look for a fish vender. Eventually coming across one you looked over the very small selection they had. They would cook it here which would be good for you, less of a wait for her to eat.

You felt a hand wrap around you elbow and turn you around. You were about to scream but he held up a hand, finger to his lips to shush you.

He was older. Far older than you. Maybe twice your age, a few years added maybe. He was slim, he had greying blonde hair and blue eyes. And a yellow shirt that looked like it had been worn for ages.

“Come with me.”

He began to pull you along with him before taking you to a less crowded area. You normally would have red flags going up, your mother’s voice yelling at you to run. But you didn’t feel threatened. He took you to an alleyway where no one would think to go. Just right behind to buildings, no way to access the ally from those buildings considering there were no doors.

He’d pushed you ahead and you looked up at the stone wall before feeling something hit the back of your head, and the whole world go black.

* * *

You’d woken up to muffling. You knew that voice. Even if it was muffled and several feet away, you knew it. Tyrion.

You weren’t bound by anything, You’d been knocked out. Whoever had decided to kidnap you and your uncle seemed to be trusting in you and not your uncle.

You opened your eyes to be greeted to the bright blue of the eastern sky. Not a white cloud to interrupt the aesthetically pleasing color above you.

Lucia.

You’d bolted up from your laying position and onto your knees looking around, finally realizing you were on a boat.

“Oh shit.” You mumbled

Where was Lucia? She wasn’t here! You couldn’t see her pale skin or her dark hair peeking out of anywhere.

She was gone. Had this man just taken you from your daughter? How far away from her were you? How deep was the water?

You couldn’t swim. You couldn’t make it back to that brothel that Lucia had been in with Varys watching over her. She was just a baby. Varys didn’t know what it would be like to deal with her on his own for however long he was going to be. You had been alone with her before she had even left your womb and even then she had been a pain.

You’d never been separated from her before. You’d never felt this amount of anxiety before. Was this what soldiers talked about? When they’ve been far away from their wives for too long?

You’d never not known where Lucia was. She was the one thing that kept you going in this world. Miza had gone so far as to say that Jon Snow and you meeting was just the gods’ way of giving you a child. To follow through with something that would be of greater importance later in life.

It never was. You’d just gotten lucky one day for Robert to let you, Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella come with him and Cersei to Winterfell. You’d gotten lucky that Jon had been frustrated and took his anger out on a dummy. You’d gotten lucky you needed fresh air.

You were lucky you had fallen pregnant with her. She was the best thing. And now she was missing.

You hadn’t even noticed the man take Tyrion’s gag off.

“Thank you.” Was what you heard to snap you out of your thoughts.

“Who are you?” You asked angrily turning your head to the man who was currently steering the boat

“Your captor.” He responded

“No shit.”

“Y/N! Let me handle this.”

You huffed and looked over the water. Was she scared? Was she still hungry? The thoughts of any mother in this situation ran through your head. He was taking you back to your mother. You just knew it.

“Do you have wine?”

“No.”

“Can’t sleep without wine”

You looked to Tyrion dumbfounded and looked to your captor before looking back to your uncle

“My daughter is missing, and you’re concerned about fucking wine?”

Tyrion turned to you and looked around, trying to find the usually very quiet little girl. She rarely ever made a sound unless she was talking to you. The effects of having not had anyone to interact with who was her own age.

“Where is she?” Tyrion asked

“Also, you’re going the wrong way.” You spat to the man. “My mother’s in Westeros. With my brother. Westeros, is west. We’re heading east.”

“I’m not taking you to your mother.”

You needed a drink. You missed your bed. You needed something other than a ship and a wheel house to sleep in.

“You said you were taking us to the queen?” Tyrion asked curiously

“I am. Queen Danaerys Targaryen”


	2. Chapter Two

He was taking you to the very person you were heading to go see anyway. The mother of dragons and the unburnt. The last born Targaryen.

“What a waist of a good kidnapping. It so happens we were heading there ourselves.” Tyrion said after a bit of laughter. You were still upset. You’d always known where Lucia was, and when she was in the same room as you she was attached to you the entire time. You felt like you were missing a part of yourself.

* * *

You felt empty. You didn’t know what it was, you just did. Maybe it was the fact you were going back to the very place you had convinced your father to take you and your siblings out of. Maybe it was because you were leaving the place you had grown so fond of. Maybe it was because of Jon.

You were both going in very different directions. You, to the crownlands. Him, to as north as you could be without being in wildling territory. You’d never see him again and it left a gaping hole in your chest.

He wasn’t very tall, and even when he rested his face he still looked like he was brooding. And the way he held you. It made you feel safe. It made you forget the life you had in King’s Landing. You weren’t princess Y/N Baratheon of Westeros. You were just some girl in the north who had fallen in love with a bastard of a high lord.

A bastard who had stolen your heart and left with it. And you let him. Within a fortnight he became half of you. A half you never knew you needed. Now you… Were incomplete.

You were in the Riverlands. Far from Winterfell, and you didn’t know if it was something you ate, but you felt ill. It was probably from being in the wheelhouse all day and night. So you’d stopped for the night.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine Tommen. I just…I don’t feel well.”

“Do you want to play swords with me? It always makes you feel better.”

You turned your head to look at your golden haired little brother and smiled before nodding. “I’ll win.” You challenged and rushed out of the wheelhouse

* * *

“What business would you have with the queen?”

You rolled your eyes and looked over the edge of the boat into the water. You’d never gone swimming, you were never taught. You’d been kept inside with books and sewing. The only times you’d ever come near water was to bathe or drink.

“Gold and glory. Oh, and hate. If you’d ever met my sister, you’d understand. So, now that it’s clear we’re all on the same side…”

Tyrion held out his hands which were still bound together. You looked from your uncle to the man. He dropped his hands in his lap and thought for a moment

“A highborn knight from the North of Westeros down on his luck in Essos. Dragon epaulets, bear sigil breastplate-“

“Jorah Mormont.” You realized looking at the things Tyrion was pointing out. The things that were actually right next to you.

“You’re Jorah Mormont! Weren’t you exiled?”

He remained quiet, sparing you an unimpressed look before looking back at the open water.

“I have to ask, how exactly were you serving your queen in a whorehouse half a world away?”

You looked from Jorah to Tyrion who sat looking exactly at Jorah. “He kidnapped you from you a whorehouse?” You questioned

Tyrion just the same as Jorah spared you a simple glance before looking back to the older man “Is it possible that you were running? Why would you be running? Why would she have sent you away. Oh wait, you were spying on her, weren’t you.”

Oh shit. Jorah Mormont. Not only was he an ex-slaver, he spied on the queen of Meereen. The woman who probably trusted him more than anyone.

“It’s all coming back to me. I was drunk through most of the small council meetings, but it’s all coming back. You passed notes to Varys’s little birds. She found out didn’t she? Found out and exiled you. Now you hope to win back her favor with gifts.”

“Risky.” You stated looking out at the land close by. She could decide to kill Jorah and imprison you and your uncle. Or kill the whole lot of you. You’d heard of her kindness. But also how far she would go to prove a point. A Targaryen she was indeed.

“One might even say desperate. You think Daenerys with execute us and pardon you? I’d say the reverse is just as likely.”

“It better be the more likely scenario.”

Jorah looked at you curiously and asked “Why is that princess?” The word princess came from his mouth like it was derogatory

“If I die, who takes care of my daughter? You? Varys?”

“Her father.” He suggested.

He really didn’t know anything about what was going on in Westeros. He didn’t know what Miza had spread throughout all the seven kingdoms just by telling the small council what you wanted said.

“Her father is a sworn brother of the Night’s Watch. He went there before she was born. He doesn’t even know she exists.”

* * *

“I know where we are” Tyrion stated.

You looked to where Jorah and Tyrion where looking. You saw stone structures, battered and broken down from probably centuries of being there. The fog gave it cover from anyone who was too far away to look at it. You stood and grabbed onto the side of the boat looking at it

“You’re taking us through Valyria.”

Valyria? where men and women with advanced greyscale where exiled to? You didn’t want to go through there. All the stories that you’d been told as a child said that advanced greyscale was dangerous. You’d lash out like an animal. What if you were all seen?

“I am.”

“Have you… Sailed this…route before?” You asked turning to look at Jorah as he stood as well.

“No.” He replied with a stale voice.

“You’re going to bring Daenerys a souvenir from her ancestral homeland in case we’re not enough?”

You glared at your uncle and shook your head. He would say so many wrong things, all at the wrong time. You loved your uncle, of course. But gods was he frustrating.

“I think you two will be plenty.”

You sat down slowly still looking at the structures. The fog gave it a certain eeriness. You we’re creeped out, and you’d never wanted to be back in your room in King’s Landing, in your warm bed with Lucia and you curled up playing.

“The smoking sea. How many centuries before we learn how to build cities like this again? For thousands of years the Valyrians were the best in the world at almost everything. And then…”

“And then they weren’t” Jorah finished.

The buildings were even creepier up close. You didn’t know what to say or do. These structures once held some of the bravest men and women the world knew. Men and women who rode dragons and had some of the most outrageous laws that most people Westeros could agree was strange.

Children used to play here. They used to be scolded by their mothers and fathers. What you would give for Lucia to be able to enjoy a day outside without having to be afraid of her being taken from you.

“And then they weren’t” Tyrion repeated.

“To think a volcano did this. Destroyed the entire city, killing most of the dragons. And only one family escaping.”

“The Targaryens.” Jorah confirmed.

They had to have been quick. They would have had to grab their entire family and go all the way to Westeros from here. So far from home.

“They held each other close and turned their backs upon the end. The hills that split asunder and the black that ate the skies; the flames that shot so high and hot that even dragons burned; would never be the final sights that fell upon their eyes. A fly upon a wall, the waves the sea wind whipped and churned—“

“The city of a thousand years, and all that men had learned”

You watched as you came under an arch way of a crumbling building. You could practically see it. Dragons flying above with their children, families walking down a walkway together and dragon lords flying high above their heads in thick armor. And the buildings a lighter beige color instead of this dark grey they had become.

“The Doom consumed it all alike, and neither of them turned.”

You looked at Jorah. His gaze was on your uncle as he sat and looked forward. You didn’t know what it was about Jorah, but you were, very, very slowly beginning to grow fond of him. He spoke poetically. Much like Barristan Selmy had once. You remembered him still. Whenever your mother wasn’t watching you or when Jaime and Robert wasn’t he was. He was the King’s guard assigned to watch you. And he told you stories of the mad king and how the Targaryens used to rule the seven kingdoms. He told you because you asked. Because he wanted to feed your curiosity.

Tyrion once again held his hands up where the rope was still tied and spoke “I would clap.”

“I suppose this is it? This is all that remains of the Valyrians, except for a short woman in Meereen.”

All was silent for a moment and then you saw it. A large creature in the sky. You could hear the flapping of it’s wings as it flew above. A dragon with dark scales. He was huge. You could feel tears pricking at your eyes. So it was true? She did have dragons.

Tyrion stood as did you as you watched the dragon fly past you. The wingspan was giant. Bigger than what you’d ever imagined from the stories you were told. You remembered how when you younger you had wished that just one dragon would be found, and that you’d be able to keep it. You remembered your uncle saying he had the same wish as a child. But that your grandfather had crushed it early on. That at least your mother let you dream.

You heard a splash of water and turned your head, being caught by surprise. You could see the water ripple from where something had dropped in. Or someone.

“What was that?” Tyrion asked.

Jorah moved to try and see if he could catch anything that was important.

But you’d never screamed so loudly when someone dropped down from above the archway. You were half convinced that the scream was louder than the ones you’d let out when Lucia had been born.

You had fallen back, and began to push yourself into the wall of the boat. When he had stood up completely he began to make growling sounds. You could see his head was covered in almost grey like scales.

“Stone men!” Jorah shouted to the two of you grabbing something from the side of you “Don’t let them touch you!”

Jorah hit the stone man upside the head with it and began to fight with him. And you could hear more splashing into the water from more of them.

You looked around franctially before finding your sword hidden under Jorah’s own gear. The holden hilt catching what little light you had. You grabbed it and held it in a ver defensive possession as Tyrion grabbed a crate and used it as a shield.

Jorah pushed the stone man into the water and grabbed you and Tyrion pushing you behind him to try and get the other one who had dropped onto the boat off of it.

“Cut me free!” Tyrion shouted in panic. You hadn’t had time to catch on to what he was saying. Standing there watch as Jorah fought the man off to even notice Tyrion yelling for you to cut him free. Until another one who had jumped into the water previously had climbed onto the boat.

Dropping your sword you cornered yourself with Tyrion at the back. You could face many things with a brave face. This wasn’t one of them. The advanced greyscale making you even more afraid. In sword fighting people could touch your skin with their own without damning you to death.

The man was crawling towards you and Jorah then picked up his own sword and stabbed one of the men through the chest.

“Mormont!” You and Tyrion both yelled as the man closest to you inched closer

He was soon practically in your face to the point where you and Tyrion just reacted and jumped into the water.

The problem with this? You didn’t know how to swim. You never had. So when your body hit water and your dress soon flowed around you without the weight of anything it tried to float to the surface while you were sinking. You could feel water go up your nose and into your mouth. You held your breath and tried to kick to the surface. You could see your hair surrounding you and you could feel your chest start to burn from the lack of air and for the second time in the past two days, everything went black.

* * *

You could hear the sound of birds chirping and waves crashing against itself and onto wet sand. And very faintly could hear your name being called.

“Y/N” You could make the voice out as Jorah’s, but you could feel the sun against your eyes and you didn’t want to open them.

The dress you had been wearing stuck to your body and your hair stuck against your neck and face.

Very slowly, you turned your head and felt sand against your cheek

“Y/N” Tyrion called out.

You opened your eyes and looked up seeing them both standing over you with Jorah’s hand on your shoulder firmly.

You sat up quickly and felt Jorah grab onto your back and help you sit up fully.

“You alright?”

You nodded and coughed into your elbow before he helped you stand fully. “Did any of them touch you?”

You shook your head no feeling some water fling off of your chin. Looking at Jorah’s waist you saw your own sword next to his. Something you were grateful for. That he took his time to get a sword off of a ship while you and Tyrion were drowning.

“You guys?”

Tyrion and Jorah both shook their heads and you nodded in response. “When we go and see Daenerys, You are going back out and finding my daughter and bringing her straight to me, not through some gods forsaken ancient fallen city.”

Jorah laughed and nodded “Aye.” Was his response as he helped you to your feet.

Very slowly you three and gathered wood for a fire as the sun was beginning to set. And you couldn’t help but wonder, how was Lucia? You hoped to the old gods and the new that Varys made sure that she was safe.


	3. Chapter Three

Jorah’s hand had wrapped around your arm tightly and pulled you down behind a rock as well as Tyrion. And you went down with an audible thud.

“A slave ship.” Jorah pointed out to an empty space of water near by. No doubt there was a ship there, but how could he tell it was a slave ship.

“Why are the anchored?” You asked looking to the older man.

His eyes were watching the ship intently as it just floated there in the water like all ships do.

“They probably came ashore for—“

You heard a sword scraping against the metal lips of it’s sheath as it was drawn “Water.” A man finished in a deep voice. His accent was thick and heavy, one you’d never heard before. You grabbed onto your dress, almost subconsciously trying to pull it closer to yourself.

Turning your head you saw a group of five men holding their sword like weapons. To short to be a sword. To long to be a dagger.

You stood along with Jorah and looked at them. You’d never seen people like them before. So much cloth and utilities around their waist attached to their belt. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say they were pirates. Well… Slavers and Pirates were… similar in some ways.

They’d taken you to the shore, where their boats sat that would take them back to the ship. You sat on your knees next to Tyrion and Jorah. In a line of sorts.

* * *

“Got a lot of fight in you, huh?”

You let out a angered huff as the captor hit Jorah once more. This trip was turning more and more into an adventure. You needed a nap, you needed to actually see and verify your daughter was alright.

Jorah fell to the ground and the captor who assumed was also the captain of the ship turned to walk a little ways away.

“Salt mines?” He asked one of his men, standing by his side eyeing Jorah and then looking to your Uncle and to you before looking back at Jorah.

“Yeah, that or a galley slave.” He confirmed “He looks strong enough.”

The captor then looked to your uncle again and an unimpressed look crossed his face. Most people looked down upon dwarfs. Though, you never understood why. Tyrion was a very clever man.

“Worthless.” His comrade spoke. Your brows furrowed at his decision but you didn’t argue. You didn’t want to take any chances with him. He could decide to cut your tongue out if he found you to be too mouthy

“Cut his throat.”

“Wait! Wait! Wait! Wait! Wait!” Tyrion repeated in a panic his hands going up defensively as you subconsciously positioned yourself to bolt up and attack if you needed to. You hadn’t realized you’d done it until one of the slavers came over and shoved you down onto the dirt.

“Let’s discuss this!” Tyrion continued

“And then chop off his cock. We’ll sell it for a fortune. A Edward’s cock has magic powers” He stated.

What was it with these people. Did people east of Westerns just have a fascination with dwarfs?

The captor began to walk away to the boats, and the man he had been talking to took out his weapon and walked towards Tyrion

“Wait! Wait! Wait! You can’t just hand a dry cock to a merchant and expect him to pay for it!”

You had been pushed over next to Jorah back on your knees to be back in the original position you’d been in. The man had brought his weapon to Tyrion’s neck but seemed to be waiting for his commander’s orders.

“He has to know it came from a dwarf! And how could he know unless he sees the dwarf?”

Tyrion’s head had been turned back to the man who’s dagger was against his throat. The man using the sword to make him look back at him.

“It will be a dwarf-sized cock.” He responded

“Guess again.”

Ew. Tyrion looked the man dead in the eye while you made a face. The slaver looked to the commander waiting for what he had to say. You could hear the sound of a canteen being plugged up again from behind you right before he spoke

“The dwarf lives until we find a cock merchant.”

Tyrion let out an audible sigh of relief, that for the millionth time in his life has spared it.

“What of the girl?” The man asked walking over to you and lifting your chin with the dagger to look at him. You glared at him and let a huff out through your nose.

“Whore house?” He questioned

“No. She’s had children. She’ll go with the man.” He stated

You turned your head to look at the commander as he eyed you up and down. “How would you know that?”

“How old are you?” He asked

You didn’t want to answer. But you knew you had to

“Eighteen. Almost nineteen.”

“No eighteen year old has the hips of a mother, unless they are a mother.” You shrugged slightly and made an impressed face. He wasn’t wrong. Before you’d had Lucia your hips where slender, and maybe because of how small you were when you had her, only being 15 when you had fallen pregnant and 16 when you gave birth, your hips had widened noticeably.

One of the men picked you up by your upper arms and took you to one of the paddle boats pushing you to step into it. Carefully you stepped in and sat down messing with the extra length of rope around your wrists

“Queen Daenerys has outlawed slavery.” Jorah said almost like a demand

“We’re bound for Volantis, not Slaver’s Bay. Besides, reopened the fighting pits. I’ve never heard of free men fighting in the pits.” The commander responded

“I have.” You interupted.

He looked at you and rose a brow at what you’d said. You’d only seen a fight in a pit once. And it wasn’t pretty

“It was a trial.” You responded. He only rolled his eyes and looked back at your uncle and Jorah

“The fighting pits in Meereen? You’re in luck, then! You’re about to be rich! You are looking at one of the great warriors in the seven kingdoms.” Tyrion said. Jorah. Her Jorah Mormont of Bear Island. During this whole debacle you’d forgotten that Jorah had once been a talented fighter.

“Him? He’s got to be sixty years old.” He responded

“Sure, he’s a bit long in the tooth, a bit withered, been in the sun too long.”

You gave Tyrion a look, of all the things he could say he was choosing that? He was just confirming that fact that Jorah was an older man.

“We can all see that. But he is a veteran of 100 battles. They wrote songs about him!”

The commander put his foot up on the bow of the boat and gestured for his men to bring Jorah closer

“That true?”

Jorah just looked like he was struggling to nod before he was able to and once again Tyrion began to wiggle you all out of your deaths.

“He won the tournament at Lannisport. Unseating Ser Jaime Lannister himself.”

The commander began laughing at Tyrion putting his foot down and standing up straight and Tyrion face dropped while you and Jorah looked on at the interaction you never thought you’d see.

“The Kingslayer!”

“Jousting. You’re talking about jousting A fancy game for fancy lads. The men who fight in the pits of Merreen will swallow him whole.”

“I killed a Dothraki bloodrider in single combat.”

You looked to Jorah amazed. Cause if it was true, he had to be the best. The Dothraki were some of the fiercest fighters anyone’s ever seen.

The commander got off of the boat you were sitting in and walked over to Jorah and stood less than a foot away from his face.

“Liar.”

“It’s no lie. His name was Qotho. He was bloodrider to Khal Drogo. Take me to Slaver’s Bay, put a sword in my hand, I’ll prove my worth.”

* * *

“This one’s a Westerosi knight”

You closed your eyes as the chains put a weight on your wrists and your neck. Some men from Meereen standing in front in a small crowd, as the commander and Jorah stood on a pathetic looking wooden stage. The last time you saw a stage someone was killed.

“He’s from an ancient house trained in sword and lance. He fought beside the stag King Robert on the far side of the Narrow Sea. He was first through the breach during the Siege of Spike, slaughtering fifty men with his flaming sword. He killed the great Khal Drogo in single combat. Betrayed by his woman he sold himself into slavery to repay his debts. Biding begins at 12 gold honors.”

The small crowd began murmuring as you and Tyrion stood side by side watching as the men in bright blue, green and white discussed it to themselves

“Twenty” One man offered taking out a bag of coins and throwing it to the commander who swiftly caught it and began pulling Jorah to the the man who you assumed was his new ‘master’”

The man began to take Jorah away, dragging him by the chains he was attached to.

“Wait! You have to buy us as well!” Tyrion yelled trying to run forward, the man behind you both grabbing onto his chain and yanking him back as best he could.

“Why?” The buyer asked shrugging his shoulders.

“We’re all a team. She’s a great fighter too.” Tyrion said pointing to you.

Your eyes went wide as you glared at the top of his head your hands balling into fists. The crowd laughed. Yes, because how would a woman know how to fight?

“He’s funny. You have to give him that” The commander said with a smile after he was done laughing himself.

Tyrion looked at you as the man kept trying to pull Tyrion’s chain. And you decided to prove his point. With your quick movements you turned and grabbed Tyrion’s chain yanking the man forward so hard he fell to the ground with a loud thud, you and Tyrion both began to hit him. Not that you wanted to hurt the poor boy. You just needed out so you could find Varys and Lucia.

The man smiled slightly with a hesitant nod as he walked forward to the commander once more and handed him more gold “You’re right. He’s funny.”

* * *

They’d given you your sword. The gave you armor for a man, not for a woman. The armor was that of what you’d seen Ned wearing the day he was killed. Small plates of armor placed closely together and surrounded by leather to make it into a vest of sorts. You’d put your hair up with a ribbon they’d given you. Your golden hair coming down in waves, something Tyrion said looked like a waterfall as it was put in the ponytail.

You wore chainmail on your arms and had your sword sharpened by Jorah. Of course you’d never been taught how to sharpen your own sword. But you held the golden hilt, thumb on the large jewel that sat on the rain-guard of the sword.

This sword would be used in battle today. A sword that had never seen it. Not once. And at a point in time it used to be part of a larger sword which saw many battles during Robert’s Rebellion. A large sword that had been held by Ned Stark. And then once split into two, held by Joffrey Baratheon and Jaime Lannister. Then Joffrey died. And Jaime gave his sword to Brienne of Tarth. And Varys told the sword out of Joffrey’s crypt for you.

You could hear the fighting of the first few who had gone out. The sound of steel hitting steel and the sound of men grunting as they were killed by their opponents.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Jorah came running back from the entrance. He didn’t speak a word, but he grabbed his sword and helmet. And you being how you were, grabbed your own as Tyrion asked what you were doing.

But you followed him. And when he opened the door to the fighting pits you followed him out. You could see the blood in the sand and the dead men laying on the ground in a pool of their own blood.

The man who had bought you three tried to stop you, grabbing unto the back of Jorah’s vest, but you kept going. Walking towards the fight. You didn’t want to die and you’d been damned if you never saw your little girl because you died in a fighting pit.

What was it Arya had said? About what she said to the god of death every day?

Not Today.

You would remember that everyday. Every time you walked through he staircase you and Arya had made your escape from. The very staircase where she pointed her sword at you defensively. She was younger than you, and you had learned from her.

You had a grip on your sword as you went in helmet securely on your head as you went up to a man who was beating in the skull of another with a rock. With the flat of your sword you knocked him out, the amount of force creating an open wound on the side of his bald head.

You could hear people react to what you had done, but you couldn’t hear it. All you could hear was the small voice of the little girl you’d given birth to. You’d followed Jorah blindly the past four weeks. You hadn’t seen Lucia in a month and you’d never been parted from her for longer than an hour before.

You could hear Jorah behind you taking out a few opponents of his own as he came across them. And it was then you heard the gate opening and closing again. You knew more fighters from inside the tunnel had come out. You two had more competition but you could handle it, you knew you could.

Grabbing the back of one of the men’s vests, you pulled him back and pulled his arm over your should with so much force you could hear the sound of his shoulder dislocating and his forearm breaking in half.

Jorah had taken on a man who had a wreaking ball easily, and then took on another, as did you. You avoided killing any of them. You refused to. This wasn’t life or death. They weren’t the type to get up after being bested by a woman.

However you had gotten pulled back this time. A man holding a dagger to your throat. You had moved instinctively and his blade had been shoved up to your face and dug into your jaw and went diagonally to your ear.

You could feel the blood start to run down your cheek, but the adrenaline had stifled the pain of the large, deep cut. You turned and again with the flat of your sword hit him upside the head knocking him clean out

Looking around, everyone was down on the ground. The ones you and Jorah had taken, still alive and breathing, but not dead. Severely injured, but not dead.

You looked at Jorah as walked forward to the platform for a woman stood. Her dress was a smooth white fabric, a cape around her shoulders and showing off a nice medal chest piece which was attached to her cape. It was in the shape of two dragon wings, and three dragon heads protruding from the center. She had long silver hair that was done up in an extravagant style, something you’d never seen in King’s Landing.

Daenerys Targaryen.

You slowly approached her, only a few feet behind Jorah as the unsullied by her side held up their spears and got closer with their shields up closer.

Jorah removed his helmet to reveal to her his face to her. You left yours on. She wouldn’t recognize you. All she’d see was a small golden haired girl who was shorter than herself. A small golden haired girl who apparently had the hips of a mother.

Daenerys’s face softened as she looked at him, and then once again harden. Just as fast as it had softened

“Get him out of my sight.”

Jorah looked like he was about to start begging her. And he did. His head held high as looked up to her

“Khaleesi, please. I just need a moment of your time.”

Two guards grabbed onto Jorah’s arms and they pushed you aside as if you were another object. In the way

“I brought you a gift!” Jorah yelled out as the guards where taking him away.

“It’s true!”

Tyrion had walked out, the chains that had attached him to the wall… Still attached to his wrists, but not to the wall. Someone had broken him free from staying by the wall.

The mother of dragons looked over to see the dwarf Lannister walking behind Jorah and next to you.

“He has.” You finished

“And who are you” She asked her dark brows furrowing in confusion, anger and frustration.

“We are the gift.” Tyrion responded holding up his chains for her to see. She still looked confused as she looked from your uncle to you and back and forth in a cycle.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.” You greeted with a warm smile. And a nod.

“My name is Y/N Baratheon, he is Tyrion Lannister”


	4. Chapter Fourteen

You stood before her. Daenerys Targaryen. With your hands clasped together in front of you. A position you had become used to from being the princess of the seven kingdoms.

The throne room of Meereen was made of stone. A warmer stone than what the red keep had. The stone here was unpolished, rough. The stone in the red keep was. It was a cold stone. It had been a perfect match for the throne it held. An Iron Throne of swords. Swords of men long dead. Men who’s named you didn’t know. Names no one in the seven kingdoms knew due to Aegon Targeryen erasing their history.

The stone here matched Daenerys. She was the mother of dragons. The breaker of chains and according to most, the unburnt. You knew she had a cold shell. But from stories of men and women in the east, she had a warm heart. This place felt more comforting.

Tyrion stood on your right and Jorah on your left. You all looked to her as she sat with a straight firm back on her throne. She just looked down at you three as you looked up to her.

“Your Grace, I want to say—“

“You will not speak.”

She had interrupted him calmly. Unlike Joffrey would have. Joffrey would have yelled and threatened them. Saying that was no way to treat their king. But she was calm. And the calm could strike fear into people’s hearts more than the loud.

“How do I know you are who you say you are?” She questioned

You remained quiet. You had never been good with words like your uncle was. He was clever. He had to be. He wasn’t strong like Jaime. He didn’t have people who were spies for him like your mother. He had to learn to talk his way out of situations. You were better at sneaking out of your situations. And when caught, you would fight. You had snuck your way out of getting Arya harmed. You had helped Sansa get out of the capital. And you had snuck out of the capital yourself. And only recently did you have to fight.

“If only I were otherwise.”

“If you are Tyrion Lannister and Y/n Baratheon, why shouldn’t I kill you to pay your family back for what it did to mine?”

She would have every right. You knew that. Lannisters weren’t known for their kindness. First it had been the Targaryens. Wiping out most of the house. Leaving a little girl, her brother and her mother. Not that your grandfather would have stopped there. They had just gotten away. And then it had been House Reyne. Your grandfather had them all slaughtered. Men, women and children. And he hung their bodies around Casterly Rock for an entire summer. For years the bodies weren’t taken down. Never shown any respect. ‘They had gotten cocky’ is what your grandfather said when you asked about it. ‘They started to act like they had the power of Lannisters.’ They were lions, just like him. Just a different color coat.

“You want revenge against the Lannisters? I killed my mother, Joanna Lannister on the day I was born. I killed my father Tywin Lannister with a bolt to the heart. I am the greatest Lannister killer of our time.”

You smiled slightly. He wasn’t wrong. Every man in Westeros had feared Tywin Lannister. Lord of Casterly Rock and Hand of The King. He wasn’t particularly good at the job like Tyrion had been.

“So I should welcome you into my service because you murdered members of your own family?

You had looked to your sides to see the unsullied. Still standing tall, shields up and their spears standing high above them as the held onto the base of them. You knew they had been raised this way. You didn’t know if you should feel safe or feel bad.

“Into your service? Your Grace, we have only just met. It’s too soon to know if you deserve my service.”

You looked down to Tyrion as he had the expression of an expectant person. Just waiting for a response from the silver haired woman who sat before you. Rolling your eyes you looked back up to her as she raised a questioning brow.

“If you’d rather return to the fighting pits, just say the word.”

You had remained quiet and so did Tyrion for a moment. You knew your reasoning for being here. There was so much to it for you. But you knew the main reason.

“When I was a young man, I heard a story about a baby born during the worst storm in living memory. She had no wealth, no lands, no army, only a name and a handful of supporters, most of who probably thought they could use that name to benefit themselves. They kept her alive, moving her from place to place, often hours ahead of the men who’d been sent to kill her. She was eventually sold off to some warlord on the edge of the world and that appeared to be that. And then a few years later, the most well-informed person I knew, told me that this girl without wealth, lands or armies had somehow acquired all three in a very short span of time, along with three dragons. He thought she was our best, last chance to build a better world.”

Only from halfway through you began to smile. She’d built her way up. Daenerys had nothing but a name that was true. And had acquired all of the above within a few years. When it took most people decades to acquire them. And you could only assume, it was because people believed in her.

“I thought you were worth meeting at the very least.” Tyrion added

“And why are you worth meeting? Why should I spend my time listening to you?”

“Because you cannot build a better world on your own. You have no one at your side who understands the land you want to rule. The strengths and weaknesses of the houses that will either join or oppose you.”

“I will have a very large army and very large dragons.”

“With all due respect your grace.” You interrupted, you were almost surprised by the fact that she didn’t stop you from speaking

“With my mother certainly being on the other side of the war that will come when you go to take Westeros, She will try to turn every house against you. And if you try to make them kneel with your dragons, you’ll have burned every settlement and its residents from Castle Black to old Castamere. Then who will you rule over?”

Her head raised slightly in curiosity.

“You need someone to advise you. My uncle was the best hand of the king I’d ever seen. He beats Jon Arryn and Ned Stark. And he advised the king at the time, my own brother fairly well, considering Joffrey preferred to animals torturing animals over leading the seven kingdoms. He would do even better with someone like you. Someone who would take every word he says into consideration. If it weren’t Tyrion, King’s Landing would have been taken over by Stannis Baratheon at the battle of Blackwater Bay. I have to thank him for that. He’s the reason me and my daughter are still alive.”

She looked at you and then to Tyrion. She had a stone face as she transferred he gaze.

“You want to advise me?”

There was a thick silence as Tyrion straightened up and didn’t even nod. He just looked as if he was trying to figure out what to say to her

“Very well. What would you have me do with him?” She nodded her head in the direction of Jorah

“I swore I would kill him if he ever returned.” She added.

Tyrion stepped forward in the dingy clothes he’d been wearing since Pentos. Not that you could say anything about it. You were too.

“I know.”

“Why should the people trust a queen who can’t keep her promises?”

“Whomever Ser Jorah was when he started informing on you, he is no longer that man. I can’t remember ever seeing a sane man as devoted to anything as he is to serving you. He claims he would kill for you and die for you and nothing I ever witnessed gives me reason to doubt him.”

There was a pause in Tyrion’s speech before he looked behind him to Jorah as he still remained as quiet as a mouse. You could hear the distant squalling of seagulls from the shore of Meereen.

“And yet he did betray you.”

Tyrion went to take a step up the stairs that lead to Daenerys’s throne. He didn’t even make it up one step before the unsullied held up the shields and looked ready to attack your uncle. But Daenerys held up a hand to let him come up. And Tyrion slowly did. He climbed the steps and came to a stop on the fifth one before looking back at Jorah once more.

“Did he have an opportunity to confess his betrayal?”

“Yes. Many opportunities.” She responded. She sounded so hurt. Like it was a heart shattering thing he’d done to her. You could understand it if you were being honest.

“And did he?”

“No, not until forced to do so.”

“He worships you. He is in love with you, I think. But he did not trust you with the truth. An unpleasant truth to be sure, but one of great significance to you. He did not trust that you would be wise enough to forgive him.”

“So I should kill him?”

“A ruler who kills those devoted to her is not a ruler who inspires devotion. And you’re going to need to inspire devotion. A lot of it, if you’re ever going to rule across the Narrow Sea. But you cannot have him by your side when you do.”

“Remove Ser Jorah from the city.”

* * *

Daenerys had given you a dress to change into. A nice pale blue one with three layers to the skirt that flowed nicely around your feet. It came into a low cut, ending right below where your cleavage started and the sleeves held loosely on your shoulders.

“You said you have a daughter?”

You looked up from you cup of wine you had poured for yourself only a short while ago. You had just noticed you’d only been staring into the cup when she entered the chambers she’d given you until she decided wether or not she was going to kill you and Tyrion.

“I do.” You answered as she sat down across from you at the table. The canister of wine still on the table mostly full still.

Daenyers was smiling at you little did you know. Your gaze had gone back to the red wine in your cup which had gone to looking black with the opacity of the green cup not see through.

“Why aren’t you with her?”

You lifted your head to look at the silver haired woman and then back down at your wine. You were never big on wine. Every now and again you’d take a few cup fulls. The last time you had wine was when Joffrey… nevermind.

“Jorah technically kidnapped us. Waste of a well thought out kidnapping though. She was hungry. She hadn’t eaten in hours so I went to go get her some food. Jorah took me to an ally and knocked me out. I woke up on the boat. Without my daughter.”

Daenerys’s face fell as you told her this. She couldn’t help but wonder if the poor child was okay. You looked to be slightly younger than her. Not more than a year younger, so your child couldn’t be very old.

“Is she with anyone?”

“Varys. He seems fond of her, and he of him. I’m still worried. She can be a pain. Not even my her aunt knew what to do with her when she got fussy. Only mothers really know to calm their children.”

“I’ll send unsullied to look for her. What does she look like?”

You smiled at the thought of Lucia.

“Dark hair. Dark as the night. It’s curly. She has pale skin and dark eyes. She’s two. Almost three.”

She nodded and looked at the cut on your jaw to your ear. It had been bandaged and cleaned by Messandei who had been kind to you and gentle with taking care of the wound.

“I think it will turn into a nice scar.”


	5. Chapter Five

You sat beside Tyrion, a seat between you and Daenerys and Messandei on her other side. The arena was huge. It was the largest fighting pit you’d ever seen. People from Meereen were hip to hip as they sat waiting for the fighting to start.

Daenerys had been kind to you. Asking the Unsullied to keep an eye out for a toddler with dark curly hair, pale skin and dark brown eyes. She seemed understanding of the situation you were in. The desperation you had to get Lucia back in your arms safely.

The cut had mostly healed, it was almost a large scar on your face. And when you had looked in the mirror you couldn’t recognize yourself. You remembered once looking in a mirror and seeing a fresh still child like face, full of innocence. A face that had been yours. Tan skin and golden hair. Now, you looked older, more worn and more hardened. You weren’t the fifteen year old girl who believed that Robert Baratheon was your father. You were nineteen. In that time you’d had a baby. You’d killed someone. You’d killed your brother and you still hadn’t told anyone.

This pit reminded you of Joffrey. He would have loved this. A giant arena to look down at people slaughtering each other. You remembered the wooden sword fighting Robert had discouraged from you. Something he’d told you not to do.

Now look where you were. In front of a queen, Joffrey’s sword strapped to your waist, a gentle reminder of what you had allowed yourself to do. You hadn’t imagined that the poison would be as gruesome as it had been. You had felt like you betrayed the person your brother had been. When he was kind to you.

Daenerys’s betrothed walked around and sat next to Daenerys. Fixing his yellow garments of clothing before settling into a position to sit in.

“Where have you been?”

“Just making sure everything is in order.” He responded to her.

You furrowed your brows slightly. What did he have to do? Wasn’t everything already in order? It should have been. From what you understood, these kind of things were usually sorted out the few nights before hand. So nothing went awry.

Daenerys seemed to think this was strange as well, she looked at him questionably as did you. She then looked back to the pit where the gates opened and horses came stampeding across and through another gate, a man following behind on the ground.

People stood applauding and cheering as he came to the center of the pit and faced the Queen of Meereen. He then held his arm out in a straight line and turned, the entire audience quieted up as he then began to speak in Valyrian. It was a language you didn’t know, let alone understand.

Once he was finished speaking the crowd began to cheer and applaud once more. Just resuming what they’d been doing before hand.

Two men came out with weapons in hand and stood beside the previous man. Their armor wasn’t even armor and you didn’t recognize their faces. You doubted you’d be able to from where you sat anyway.

The two men stepped froward and said the exact same thing in Valyrian and then stopped speaking. As if… waiting for something to happen.

“They’re waiting for you.” Her betrothed said factually. When Daenerys looked at him confused he added “Clap your hands.”

Daenerys raised her hands reluctantly and clapped. The entire crowd began cheering once more. The two men began fighting. You hated this. Killing wasn’t a sport. Joffrey had made it a sport. And when Gregor Clegane stabbed a men through the throat at a jousting match it was like he was suddenly in love with the sport.

“You should bet on the smaller man. No question, that’s where you should put your money.” Darrio said coming up close to the queen.

“The smaller man it is.” Tyrion responded

“Tyrion.” You grumbled playing with the hilt of your sword, tracing the intricate details that had been put into the mold. There was one thing you had to commend your grandfather for, it was his eye for detail and how certain things should look.

“I’m not putting my money anywhere.” Daenerys responded

“Kings and queens never bet on the games. Perhaps you should go and find someone who does.”

The two got into a large conversation, many things that you didn’t pay any attention to. Your mind kept going to your brother. You didn’t know why it did. You hadn’t thought about him in months. But now you were.

You could remember a lot of things about him. How he had looked at you when you had been hiding in a pantry in the kitchens together eating some of the cakes that was made in honor of Tommen’s birth. How he had smiled at you when you handed him one of the cakes.

You also could remember how he looked at you when you were able to walk again after giving birth. It wasn’t distaste like it had been once before, when he had locked you in your chambers. Maybe it had been pity. Something that had gone away quickly. That much was sure.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard the sound of a sword going through someone’s neck.

You could practically see it. You could feel it. Your bare feet against the material of a stone cold stage outside the sept. And Sansa’s grateful expression. And then the sound of his head hitting the ground.

Your mother’s arms wrapping around you to keep you from attacking Joffrey. The sound of Sansa falling to ground as she fainted. The heavy weight of your stomach as you fell to your knees.

But it wasn’t that. It was a fighting pit. It wasn’t Ned Stark’s head that had been cut off. It was the head of the loosing fighter.

The sound of the crows cheering came back into focus as Tyrion shook your shoulder. “Y/N? Y/N? Are you alright?”

Your head snapped over to Tyrion. Your eyes were wide as you remembered what had happened. You didn’t even realize it was something you had been trying to forget until now. You had forgotten, you had forgotten that you tried to fight Joffrey as Illyn Payne went to get Ned Stark’s sword.

His worried face remained when he saw the almost traumatized look on your face. The look of someone who’s seen death. You’ve seen it plenty he knew that. He knew you hated killing for sport, and killing that was useless.

“I’m fine.” You choked out grabbing onto the armrest of your seat. Tyrion however seemed unconvinced, but he dropped the matter.

“You don’t approve?” Hizdhar asked Tyrion as you tried to regulate your breathing into a normal pace.

“There’s always been more than enough death in the world for my taste. I can do without it in my leisure time.”

“Fair enough. Yet it’s an unpleasant question, but what great thing has ever been accomplished without killing or cruelty?”

“It’s easy to confuse what is with what ought to be, especially when what is has worked in your favor.”

“I’m not talking about myself. I’m talking about the necessary conditions for greatness.”

“That is greatness?” Daenerys questioned

“That is a vital part of the great city of Meereen, which existed long before you or I and will remain standing long after we have returned to the dirt.”

“My father would have liked you.” Tyrion mumbled

When the next fighters were brought out your face dropped. For fucks sake Jorah. Is all you could think. Tyrion had gotten him out of the city without being killed. Now he decided to come back. You understood why. But you didn’t understand why he had decided to go into the fighting pits once again.

You wanted to hold your breath and pretend he wasn’t down there. But when Daenerys clapped her hands you knew he’d win. He was a knight of Westeros.

Jorah fought and killed. Until there was only three left he could fight. You closed your eyes as you heard the fighting. Useless fighting. Fighting that wouldn’t do anything for anybody. Harming and killing for sport. You hadn’t realized people other than Joffrey had enjoyed it.

“You can end this!” Tyrion said. Leaning forward in his chair

“She cannot.”

“You can.”

You opened your eyes again to see Jorah, back on the ground a sword pointing to him. He couldn’t die. Not now. Not Today.

One of the men put their sword through the other’s back and he fell to the ground in pain. It gave him enough time to grab his own weapon and get ready for the next fight. You closed your eyes again. Not wanting to see what was happening.

Eventually your ears were greeted with booing. Opening your eyes once more you saw Jorah. Standing tall and the man he’d been ready to fight on the ground, severely wounded.

Jorah grabbed his spear and aimed it like he was about to throw it. But it was aimed towards the seating area that you all sat at.

You moved quickly to avoid it and fell the ground by the pillar. The spear had flew from Jorah’s hand and into the chest of a man with a golden mask. Someone who hadn’t been there before. Had he been trying to sneak up on Daenerys?

You looked around and suddenly men with similar masks started standing from the crowd. You pushed yourself from the ground. They had begun to chant something in Valyrian. You pulled your sword from it’s sheath and got into a defensive position. You walked to be in front of the queen. You didn’t know if it was part of your instinct telling you to protect her.

“Protect you queen!” Darrio shouted. You watched as the men in masks began to kill citizens in the crowd, slitting their throats and stabbing them to death. People tried scrambling away and running. Some got away, some did not.

“Your grace! Come with me! I know a way—“ He had been interrupted by one of the men stabbing him through the heart with a dagger.

One of the men went towards Darrio and the other to you. You hadn’t hesitated to put a sword through his throat. You pulled the sword out of his throat, it had been covered in his blood. But you didn’t even bat an eye.

Jorah had gotten up to where you all were and went to Daenerys holding his hand out for her to take. And she did. He took her to get her out of the massacre that was happening. You followed them closely behind as Jorah helped lower her into the fighting pit. Somewhere were you could make your escape.

You jumped down after her, sword in hand ready to attack anyone who was going to harm her, Tyrion or you.

You had all gone to a tunnel that would lead out. But the wooden gate had been closed and a man in a golden mask stepped forward ready to fight as well. Jorah stabbed him through the stomach as Darrio said “The other side, follow me!”

When Messandei and Tyrion ran towards you all Daenerys took Messandei’s hand and kept running to the other side. Unsullied circling you all as you continued to run. You all came to a sudden stop as more of the men ran through the tunnel you had been running to. You all stood. In a circle as they surrounded you all. The unsullied was all that was holding them back.

You felt your heart stop when a roar ripped through the air. It wasn’t something you’d ever heard before. Everyone stopped fighting and froze. Looking up at the sky. It was a dragon?

All was quiet until a gust of fire went through the air and large dark colored dragon flew through it. The men began to run to leave, as the dragon circled around the arena. The dragon landed in front of you all and roared

One man however didn’t stop running towards Daenerys. You had jumped in front of her sword in hand but the dragon grabbed the man by the head, shaking his head violently until his body broke off into pieces because of it. He spat fire at some of the men relentlessly and the men retaliated throwing spears at the poor thing.

“Drogon!” Daenerys yelled

She walked forward out of the circle to the dragon pulling one of the spears out of his body. The dragon then turned to her, angry and began to roar loudly in her face. Her hair being sept behind her shoulders from the amount of force. But when he stopped she reached her hand out before more men threw spears making the dragon yell in pain.

You watched Daenerys as she climbed onto Drogon’s back. When she whispered something to the dragon he began to march forward. You grabbed Messandei by the hand pulling her out of the way and watched as Daenerys’s dragon took air with her on his back. Flying out of the arena.


	6. Chapter Six

“You love her don’t you?”

There was a thick silence as you looked at Darrio and Jorah. You were all sitting on the steps that lead up to the throne.

“How could you not? Of course it’s hopeless for the both of you. A sellsword from the fighting pits, a disgraced knight. Neither one of you is fit consort for a queen. But we always want the wrong woman.”

You sighed slightly playing with hilt of your sword once again. Your thumb gazing over the red gem in the center that made it painfully obvious it was a Lannister’s sword.

“Does he always talk so much?” Darrio asked

“Unfortunately.” Is what you responded with, while Jorah only gave a small nod to confirm what you had said

The footsteps began as someone turned the corner. You looked up to see a man with bandages around his torso, he had a darker complexion. And Messandei who was with him, helping him along.

“Jorah the Andal.” Is what he said to greet the knight.

“Torgo Nudho.” Jorah replied

“He should not be here.”

You straightened your back slightly as Darrio began to speak in response “No, but he is.”

“Our queen ordered him exiled from the city.”

“He saved our queen’s life. IF it wasn’t for him, we would have no queen, no chance to take back the seven kingdoms.” You stated looking at the man who looked more like a boy.

Messandei turned to the man and spoke to him in Valayrian before she paused and looked at Tyrion before saying something else in Valayrian. To which Tyron responded and she then responded back to him, correcting his Valaryian.

“Sorry I not there to fight for our queen.”

His common tongue wasn’t the best, but you could understand what he was saying. Lucia not having a good grasp on the language as well spoke in sentences just like his.”

“You missed a good scrap. Good thing this little knightress was there to protect her as well.”

“I’m not a knight.” You defended

“None of that matters now.”Jorah interupted. “The longer we sit here bantering, the longer Daenerys is out there in the wilderness.”

Tyrion nodded before speaking himself “He’s right. The dragon headed north. If we’re going to find her that’s where we’ll have to go.”

Tyrion stood from his sitting position on the steps and pulled up his breeches as you continued to sit.

“We? You’re both Lannisters. The queen intends to remove power from your family.”

“And we intend to help her do it.” You stated standing up as well following your uncle down the stairs.

“You’ve been here for how many days now? I’ve fought for her for years. Since she was little more than a child.”

“You betrayed her!” Tyrion exclaimed

“Careful now.” Jorah warned

“And she exiled you. Twice, I believe.”

“The second time thanks to you!”

“Don’t blame me for your crimes, Mormont!”

Darrio stood and help his hand out to signal for Tyrion to stop speaking, he walked forward, stepping down a few steps

“He’s right. Our queen exiled Jorah. And she’s right Jorah saved her life. Perhaps she feels differently about him now. Perhaps not. The only way we’ll know is if we ask her.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes slightly

“Fine, fine. I suppose he can join us. Just as long as he promises not to kill me in my sleep.”

“If I ever kill you, your eyes will be wide open.”

“No death threats.” You warned “I heard enough of those from my brother when he was alive, I don’t need it from someone like you, Jorah. Play nice.”

Darrio gave you a thankful nod before looking at Tyrion “Forgive me, but why would we bring you? We’re more likely to bring her.” He said gesturing to you.

“Pardon me?” You and Tyrion asked in unison.

“Have you ever tracked animals in the wilderness?”

“Not precisely, but I have other skills that would be useful.”

“Can you fight?”

“I have fought. I don’t claim to be a great warrior.”

“Are you good on a horse?”

“Middling.” Tyrion defended

“So mainly you talk.”

“In his defense, his talking got has gotten him out of many things. He’s very persuasive and very convincing. However he also drinks. He’s survived so far.” You spoke up in defense stepping down another step

“I do respect that, but would he not help us on this expedition. You would help us here in Meereen, though. None of us have experienced governing a city except for him. You want to prove your value to the queen? Prove it right here in Meereen.”

“He’s a foreign dwarf that barley speaks the language. Why would the Meerenese listen to him?”

“Jorah, If I do recall correctly, Messandei knows the language very well, and has translated low Valyrian into High Valyrian and into the common tongue for the queen. I do believe if he needs help he can ask her. Other than that he is a very good advisor. If it weren’t for him we would have lost the battle at Blackwater Bay.” You said with furrowed brows. No one ever got away with belittling your family. Even if that family was annoying at times.

“They wouldn’t listen to him, but they will listen to Grey Worm.”

The man stepped forward “I’ll come with you. I’ll find our queen.”

Messandei stepped forward placing a hand on his chest in a worried manner. Much like how you would if someone you loved was hurt

“You are not strong enough to go anywhere.”

“I am.”

“He is. He’s the toughest man with no balls I ever met. But you still can’t go. The people believe in you. They now you speak for the queen.”

“It’s true. Only the Unsullied can keep the peace in Meereen. If you leave, half this city will consume the other half.”

“And Missandei. Our queen trusts no one more than Missandei. Certainly not me. The queen’s closest confidante, The commander of the Unsullied, A foreign dwarf with a scarred face, and a seasoned knightress.”

“You’re not leaving me here are you?” You questioned with furrowed brows “Also, for the last time, I’m not a knight.”

“You would serve as a Queen’s Guard. If Tyrion is in charge, you protect him.”

You nodded and gave him a small smile

“Good fortune my friends. Meereen is ancient and glorious. Try not to ruin her. Look like it’s you and me Jorah the Andal. Let’s find some good horses. We have so much to talk about.” Daario patted Jorah’s shoulder then began to walk away from the thrones room and Jorah followed. Which left you, Tyrion, Missandei and Grey Worm.

You sat on the balcony of your chambers, glass of wine in hand as you looked over the sand. Jorah and Daario on their horses going to find Daenerys.

Queen’s Guard. Who would’ve thought that at age nineteen you’d been in the ancient city of Meereen, in a downplayed dress than what you were used to wearing, Joffrey’s sword strapped to your side and in the role of Queen’s Guard to protect Tyrion while the queen was gone.

As a child you never thought you’d leave King’s Landing. Then you had gone to Winterfell. Stopping in the River Lands plenty of times on your way to the North. A place you wish you could go back to. A place you wish you could see Jon again. But he was in the Night’s Watch, and from what you had heard by the little birds all around the world, he was making something of himself there. Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. One day, Lucia would get a kick out of that when you told her how he was when you first met him.

He was just the bastard boy of Winterfell. You were princess Y/N Baratheon of the Seven Kingdoms. You had a name, you had lands that belonged to Robert. And if it ever came down to it, you would have became queen. You would have had armies fighting for you if you ever commanded it. You knew she would one day wonder how a young fifteen year old you fell in love so quickly, for a boy who was only known as Ned Stark’s bastard. You knew what you would one day tell her that nobody got to choose who they loved.

Your mother loved her brother. Robert Baratheon loved Lyanna Stark. Robb Stark loved a woman who wasn’t his betrothed. And it got him killed. You fell for a northern boy. You weren’t anything but children at the time. You had been so in love you never thought about how badly you’d miss him. How bad this aching heart would feel. It was dull when you had fallen pregnant and when you had Lucia by your side. But now… Now that she wasn’t by your side you felt your heart ache for her and her father.

“Mama!”

You turned your head quickly. There she was. Her hair longer than before. The beautiful black curls of her father, her dark brown eyes that were so familiar, and the pale skin with her flush cheeks and nose. She had his nose. You’d noticed this only now.

Her small dress fit her perfectly. A rarity for her, since she was still growing. The sound of her bare feet on the sound rang in your ears as she spotted you when Messandei brought her in. She was running to you arms out to be picked up.

You set down the wineglass walking with long strides to meet her in the middle. You grabbed her by her torso, picking her up and holding her. One hand rested on her bottom to keep her up and the other on the back of her head as her arms wrapped around your neck to hold you close. You buried your head into her shoulder getting the comforting smell of your daughter, who still smelled like firewood, a smell she had picked up when she found out she could touch fire without being hurt.

“I missed you mama.” You mumbled happily.

“I missed you too Luci.” You said using her nickname.

You looked at Messandei gratefully with a big smile as you sat down with her in your lap. She sat up straight and smiled at you real big and pointed to your dress.

“Pretty!” She exclaimed happily. You laughed and nodded kissing her head forcefully

“Messandei, thank you so much for bringing her to me.” You said, tears in your eyes as he let a hand rest on the small of Lucia’s back

Messandei smiled and nodded. “The man who had her, his name is Varys I beleive, Said she desperately wanted to see her mother. The way you had described her, matched her. So I brought her up here personally.”

“Tell Varys thank you for me?”

She nodded and went to leave. You looked down at Lucia and asked “How old are you?”

She held up three fingers excitedly

“Varys says I’m three!”

You nodded and set her down on the ground. “It was your name day yesterday. What do you say… We go to the garden? Make a crown out of flowers for a brave little girl?”

She nodded happily and you stood and took her hand walking out of the room and down the corridor.

You had a few roses, a couple of daises and a few small yellow ones. All of which were there to excentuate the pink roses you’d found. You had her pick the daises and the nameless yellow ones, while you had picked and dethroned the roses.

“Mama?”

You looked over to Lucia while you sat on the ground. She was standing twirling one of the dethroned roses in her hands while you held your dagger against a rose ready to take off yet another throne

“Yes?” You questioned

“Do I have a papa?”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. What had brought this on? She’d never questioned you on such things before. She was usually so content with what she had. You and Tyrion, and Varys.

“What do you mean, my love?”

She looked down at her feet almost embarrassed in a way as she seemed to be thinking. She was so young. Only the age of three, and she had so much on her plate already.

“I saw others with their mamas and other people, Varys said the other people were their papas. Do I have one?”

You smiled sadly and put down the rose and dagger holding a hand out for her to take. Her small hand took your larger one as you pulled her into your lap

“Your papa, is the best man I ever met. He’s strong, and he’d love you to bits. Every inch of his being would go to loving you just like mine does.” You said with a happy smile

“Where is he?”

You pushed a curl behind her ear and smiled once more.

“He’s serving people. Keeping everyone safe. They call them the crows. Crows of the Night’s Watch.”

“Can I be a crow?”

Your face stiffened as you thought of what to say next. The Night’s Watch didn’t take girls. Let alone young girls who didn’t know how to fight or could say the vows to become a brother of the Night’s Watch. You supposed it would actually be sister of the Night’s Watch.

“Maybe one day. But today is not that day.” You said firmly as you grabbed the rose and dagger again, dethroning it again and put into the crown.

“Because currently, you are Lucia of the houses Lannister and Stark. A brave little girl who made it miles from Volantis to Meereen just to get back to me.” You said placing the crown on her head.

“And one day, I’ll take you to Castle Black, where your papa is. And you’ll meet him.”


	7. Chapter Seven

You let out a pitiful angry scream.

It couldn’t be the truth. It couldn’t be. Myrcella was sweet. She was innocent. She had done nothing wrong. She was the sweetest girl to ever walk the earth. She had always walked with purpose and she smiled at everyone she passed in the city. She had always gone out of her way to learn everybody’s name in the Red Keep. From the cooks to the hand maidens and even the King’s Guard. She knew all their stories.

A sweet girl with golden hair and a golden heart. She’d never held a sword or a bow. She was terrible at climbing and she loved her dresses. She loved Lucia to absolute bits.

Such a sweet girl. A sister whom you had loved to the darkest pits of the seven hells all the way to the highest ceilings of the seven heavens. All the old hells and heavens to the new hells and heavens. You and her had played together, chased Tommen together and dealt with Joffrey together.

Such a sweet girl never deserved to be killed.

You couldn’t help when your knees caved in and you fell to the ground on your hands and knees.

You had hoped that one day she’d be in love with Trystane. That she’d have so many children she couldn’t count them on her fingers. That one day she would have golden haired little girls that would sing songs of their grandparents and wave around dragon puppets just like the two of you had once done.

You told her she’d be able to tell them stories of how you climbed to the highest trees you could find on your way to Winterfell. But now she never would.

A bastard of Dorne. A bastard who bore Oberyn Martell four daughters had blamed Marcella for his death. A sweet girl who had never been jealous of anyone, who was always kind to people and never cared about were they came from, just cared about how they were as people. She had decided your baby sister’s fate.

She sealed it with poison.

You couldn’t help the scream you had let out when Missandei read you the raven scroll that had arrived. ‘Princess Myrcella Baratheon of the Seven Kingdoms and of Dorne’

She was so much more than a princess. If anyone out of your four siblings deserved to rule. It was her.

Missandei dropped down to your side when you had fallen. Your sobs racked through your body. You were shaking. You were angry and you were sad.

There were only two children left. You and Tommen. How were you ever supposed to recover from this? First, you killed your own brother. As cruel as he was he didn’t deserve the death he got. You didn’t know what kind of poison it had been.

Myrcella had been poisoned. Out of the four of you she deserved it the least. She never deserved such a cruel fate. She never deserved for her life to end like it did. You would have taken her place if you could.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

You shook your head. The tears wouldn’t stop. They just kept pouring down your cheeks. You banged your fists against the stone flooring.

“Y/N!” Missandei scolded taking your fists from the stones as they bled into her hands.

“I’m going to kill her! I will kill Ellaria Sand! I will kill her daughters and burn all of Dorne to the ground!” You cried out.

Missandei brought you into her arms and held you. This wasn’t all Ellaria’s fault. It was your Mother’s. It was Tyrion’s. Tyrion sent her Dorne. Cersei accused Tyrion of Joffrey’s death. Tyrion asked for a trial by combat. Cersei got Gregor Clegane to fight against Oberyn Martell.

You hated her. You hated your mother. She set off this chain reaction. She tired the arrow that lead to this all. She drove you away. She never taught Joffrey what kindness was. You hated her.

You hated her for that she had done.

She should never have married you off to Loras Tyrell. Tommen didn’t deserve to be on the throne. He was just a child, he didn’t know how to govern a country. Granted, neither did you. But you would take the throne from him if you could. You never wanted to be queen. You never will want to be a queen. But if you could protect Tommen from all the pain the crown brought to the people who wore it you would.

You didn’t know how you felt about this. Standing right outside of the chamber where two of Daenerys’s dragons were kept. Lucia was in your arms. She had begged to come with you. Not wanting to leave you alone after how you had reacted yesterday morning.

You set Lucia down by the door way and bent down to her level with a stern look on your face “You stay right here understood?”

She nodded happily and leaned against the stone walls as Tyrion handed you a torch. The two of you, Tyrion and youself walked down the staircase, the next few feet in front you completely pitch black. Varys had stood behind with Lucia who held onto a part of his clothing tightly as you ascended down.

Once you reached the bottom floor something moved. Something like medal. A medal chain against a medal collar is what it sounded like.

You froze and waited. And then slowly took another step froward.

You could hear the sound of one of the dragons. It sounded almost like a purring cat just louder and more menacing.

Tyrion looked back to Varys and Lucia as Varys held one of her hands when she wanted him to. You just stared into the darkness of the chamber.

One of the dragons came forward, ready to breath fire on you and Tyrion. You both quickly took a few steps back as the flame was being exhailed. But instead the dragon stopped and just breathed normally before slinking it’s head back into the darkness.

Suddenly both of the dragons emerged from the darkness. Tyrion looked ready to face them, to try and talk them down while you stood ready to run to the door if you had to. You’d seen Drogon. But you’d never seen these two. Ever dragon had to be different. Just like people. Each had a different personality.

“I’m friends with your mother.” Tyrion said calmly

“I’m here to help. Don’t eat the help.” Tyrion said with a nervous chuckle.

The dragon who was closest to Tyrion gave a low grumbling noise as Tyrion began to tell a story

“When I was a child, an uncle asked what gift I wanted for my name day. I begged him for one of you. “It wouldn’t even have to be a big dragon,” I told him. “It could be little like me.”

Carefully Tyrion placed his torch on the ground and walked very slowly to the dragon continuing the story

“Everyone laughed like it was the funniest thing they had ever heard. Then my father told me the last dragon had died a century ago. I cried myself to sleep that night.” He said placing a hand on the medal collar.

“But here you are.”

He pulled the bolt off of the dragon’s collar releasing him from his restraints. He quickly stepped back when the collar fell to the stone ground with a clank.

You looked up from where Tyrion was to see the other Dragon in front of your face growling before turning it’s head where the bolt was to the collar. You understood his message.

Slowly you put down the torch and reached up to his neck. You grabbed holt of the bolt and pulled it off, the medal falling down to the stone floor.

You heard the quick yet light footsteps running down the stairs. Turning your head back you saw as Varys tried to grab onto Lucia’s hand but she was quicker than he was. You felt your heart drop as the dragon you had freed from it’s chains walked forward much quicker than her to meet her halfway.

You wanted to run forward and get her. But you were afraid that the dragon would hurt both of you if you did.

Lucia stopped dead in her tracks when the dragon lowered his head to her level. He sniffed her loudly and the other dragon walked forward as well sniffing her. Tyrion seemed confused. That she didn’t need to look afraid to be near them. They stopped sniffing and one of them got closer to her, his head reaching out for her to touch his nose.

She looked to you and Tyrion confused. You nodded to his nose nervously.

And slowly, very very slowly Lucia’s small chubby arm reached forward and touched between the cream and gold colored dragon’s nostrils she was gentle about it. And the dragon seemed to be purring like a cat.

Suddenly they both pulled away and walked back into the darkness. Quickly grabbing Lucia by the hand and grabbing the torch you practically dragged her up the stairs to the ground level.

“What did I say?” You asked angrily grabbing onto both her shoulders.

“Stay here.” She repeated the words you had said to her before you had acsended the stairs

“Stay here!” You said again picking her up and handing Varys your torch.

“Let’s play a game!”

“Games are for children.”

“My master would sometimes make us play games.”

You sighed slightly and looked to Tyrion. He was acting like a child who needed to be entertained while you all waited. You supposed he did. He was so used to having something to do with his empty time.

“There! That’s a start.”

“Only the girls.” Missandei clarified

Tyrion pulled back his wine glass, his near empty cup of wine sloshing about with the red colored liquid still inside of it.

“No, no, no. Not that. Of course not that. Innocent games. Fun games. Drinking games.”

He said pushing your full glass of wine in your direction as he placed his own drink down. You looked at him with your brows furrowed in exasperation small scowl on your face as you took the glass into your hands and took a sip.

“We do not drink.” Missandei said to once again clarify.

Tyrion leaned forward and tapped his fingers on the table “Until you do.” He said with an awkward smile.

You could practically see your own face. The face of your mother looking at Tyrion, practically questioning his existence. You never doubted that that’s exactly what she had been thinking about.

There was a thick awkward silence between the four of you as Missandei gave Tyrion a small smile

“All right. No drinking. We can play without drinking. It’s a wonderful game. I invented it. Here’s how it works. I make a statement about your past. If I’m wrong, I drink. And if I’m right… Maybe we can’t play without drinking.”

You looked at Missandei and Grey Worm and said “You don’t want to play that game anyway. He’ll win. Everytime.” You said bitterly. Of course he always won. You remembered playing that game, which wasn’t a completely fair game because you were family, he knew you very well. Better than he had known Joffrey or Myrcella. Better than he knows Tommen.

The door finally opened and in walked Varys.

“Ah, you took your time.”

“Sorry. I was busy learning who funds the Sons of the Harpy. Some things you can’t rush.”

“You found out?” Missandei asked. Grey Worm was a strangely quiet person. But you just chalked it up to how he was trained to be an Unsullied.

“The Good Masters of Astapor. And the Wise Masters of Yunkai. With help from their friends in Volantis.”

You weren’t surprised. Cities that had once been slave cities turned free cities by the queen. Of course they didn’t want to be like Bravos. Bravos was a better city than them all combined anyhow. Volantis you weren’t surprised by either. A slave city helping two other former slave cities. Not shocking per say.

“You see? You don’t even have to worry about the local rebellion. We only have to worry about the three rich foreign cities paying for it.” Tyrion said standing up and walking around you to stand next to you and look at the the three.

“We conquered Astapor and Yunkai once. We will do it again and execute the Masters.” Grey Worm said sternly

“If the Unsullied march off to reconquer Astapor and Yunkai who protects Meereen? Who defends the free people here? I can’t possibly do it alone. There is no large Queen’s Guard like Areys Targaryen once had. The is no city watch. If anything the Unsullied are the city’s watch.” You said pointing to Grey Worm.

“If we do not fight them how can we stop them?” Grey Worm asked you

“We cannot.” Missandei answered for you.

“The Masters speak only one language. They spoke it to me for many years. I know it better than my mother tongue. If we want them to hear us, we must speak it back to them. May It be the last thing they ever hear.”

You nodded slightly and looked at Tyrion

“You may be right.” Tyrion said making a face of consideration

“So we will fight them?” Grey Worm asked

“Possibly.”

“Possibly?” You questioned

“It’s a conversation.” He informed before turning to Varys “Tell me, can your little birds get a message to the Good Masters of Astapor, the Wise Masters of Yunkai, and the benevolent enslavers of Volantis?”

“Of course. Men can be fickle, but birds I always trust.”


	8. Chapter Eight

“Where will you go?”

“South.”

“What will you do?

“Get warm.”

Eddison and Jon shared a smile as Jon stuffed whatever he could into a bag while Eddison placed Long Claw onto the table and held it by the hilt.

“I was with you at Hardhome. We saw what’s out there. We know it’s coming here. How can you leave us now?”

Jon looked at his friend. He just had four men hung an hour ago. He knew why he had to leave. He had been stabbed and he had died. And now a few days later, he was breathing again. Slowly healing stab wounds in his chest from what they had all done. A few scars on his face from the time he had served at Castle Black.

“I did everything I could. You know that.” He said to Eddison.

“You swore a vow.”

“Aye, I pledged by life to the Night’s Watch I gave my life.”

“For all night’s to come”

“They killed me Edd! My own brothers! You want me to stay here after that?”

Jon slammed his hands on the table and as soon as he did the horn blew. Signalling that someone was riding into Castle Black.

“Riders approaching!” Someone yelled from outside the stone room they were in.

“Open the gate!”

Jon made his way to the door. Pulling on the handle and walking out into the snowing cold after the gates had been opened and closed. He walked through the corridor with Eddison right behind him. And when Jon came to the opening, he saw a young girl. Red hair done into a braid and a ratty old cloak around her body that surely provided no warmth for her.

He hardly recognized her. It had been years. But when he did, gods was he overwhelmed. His sister. Sansa. He had been so sure he’d never see any of his family again. Ned was killed, Catelyn hated him and never wanted anything to do with him. Robb had been killed, Arya was presumed dead. Bran and Rickon had been missing since Theon Greyjoy took over Winterfell for the short amount of time he had. Sansa… She had been in the hands of the queen.

She was with two others. A very tall pale woman, who had a strong build and who’s hair was a platinum blonde and cut very short. And a short man, around Jon’s height. The woman was in armor and had a sword strapped to her waist.

Then Sansa turned and her eyes landed on him. He had pulled back from the railing he’d been holding onto.

She had grown so much. The last time he ever saw her, she had her direwolf by her side and was in a dress she had made herself as she went to leave for King’s Landing, at the time head over heals for the prince.

Now here she was. Even taller than before. And when she had seen him her face had softened. He turned and walked slowly down the stairs, looking down at her the entire time.

He got to snow covered ground and walked to her. Only a meter away from her, staring at her. She had been through so much he could see it in her face. The face of a girl who had been so innocent and naïve about the world and who learned the true ways of it harshly and quickly.

Her hands went up as if she didn’t know what to do but she took a few steps forward to him arms open for a hug. He met her halfway picking her up into a hug. He had this strong urge to protect her

* * *

They sat there. In his chambers eating soup and sitting by the fire. And he couldn’t help but look at her. He was worried. He had believed he was the only one left from Ned’s children. But he wasn’t She was right here. Red hair and all.

“This is good soup.” She said with a small smile

He nodded slightly

“Do you remember those kidney pies Old Nan used to make?”

He could see them. The crust covering them and the smell of meat from inside the crusts. He could remember them all sitting around the table eating them while Ned scolded Arya for playing with her food

“With the peas and onions?”

Sansa hummed a yes in response. He looked at the fire. There were so many things he regretted. He regretted not spending more time with his brothers and his sisters when he had the chance. He regretted never keeping in contact with… with her.

“We never should have left Winterfell.” He said aloud.

“Don’t you wish we could go back to the day we left? I want to scream at myself, ‘Don’t go, you idiot.” She said sadly

“How could we know?”

“I spent a lot of time thinking about what an ass I was to you. espesially…nevermind. I wish I could change everything.”

Jon looked at her weirdly as it seemed as if she had wanted to say something but she refused to say it.

“We were children.” Is what he had responded with. Not wanting to push what she decided not to say.

“I was awful, just admit it.”

He let out a chuckle and nodded slightly. Of course Sansa had been rude and at time downright insulting. But she had been thirteen. A child who had followed what her mother had told her.

“You were occasionally awful. I’m sure I can’t have been great fun. Always sulking in the corner while the rest of you played.”

“Can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

“Forgive me.” Sansa insisted with a smile

“All right. All right I forgive you.”

Sansa reached a hand out close to his. He looked at her hand strangely before realizing she wanted to try the ale he had in his cup. He looked at her curiously as he handed her the cup. He watched as she brought the cup up to her lips and took a drink of it. And not surprisingly she began coughing.

He laughed at her reaction to the alcohol that was no surprise in the least. She continued coughing as she handed back the drink to him with a grimace remaining on her face.

“You’d think after thousands of years, the Night’s Watch would have learned how to make a good ale.”  
  
She hummed in response once again to what he had said.

“Where will you go?”

He looked at her and rephrased her question for her

“Where will we go? If I don’t watch over you, Father’s ghost will come back a murder me.”

She nodded with a fond smile on her face.

“Where will we go?” She asked again

“I can’t stay here, not after what happened.”

“There’s only one place we can go. Home.”

He looked at her as if she were ludicrous. Take back Winterfell? With what army? Surly Roose Bolton wouldn’t just hand back their home to them. Roose had an entire army and from what he had heard about the battle between Roose and Stannis Baratheon, his army had been swallowed whole by Roose.

“Should we tell the Boltons to pack up and leave?”

“We’ll take it back from them.” She confirmed.

He straightened his back and continued to look at her. He liked how strong willed she was now. She had ambition. He liked it.

“I don’t have an army.”

“How many wildlings did you save?”

“They didn’t come here to serve me.”

“They owe you their lives.” Sansa said standing up from her seat and walking

“You think they’ll be safe here if Roose Bolton remains Warden of the North?”

“Sansa—“

“Winterfell is our home. It’s ours and Arya’s and Bran’s and Rickon’s. Wherever they are, it belongs to our family. We have to fight for it.”

“I’m tired of fighting!” He said looking at the flames. He didn’t want to fight. Fighting got him here. Wanting to prove himself lead him away from Winterfell and so far from his family and the girl he loved to the all the seven hells and back. Wanting to prove himself lead him to fighting. Fighting got him killed.

He stood up and turned to look at her walking forward.

“It’s all I’ve done since I left home. I’ve killed brothers of the Night’s Watch. I’ve killed wildlings. I’ve killed men that I admire. I hanged a boy younger than Bran. I fought. And I lost.”

“If we don’t take back the North, we’ll never be safe. I want you to help me. But I’ll do it myself if I have to.”

He agreed.

“We’ll take back Winterfell. We’ll give the Wildlings land among our land.”

Sansa had smiled and nodded before looking down at the table she was standing at. Finally noticing a necklace in the shape of two separate antlers. A necklace she remembered admiring when she first met Y/N.

“This is Y/N’s necklace.” She said picking it up by the chain. It had more scratches on it. Throughly worn either from being in fights multiple times or just from being around someone’s neck for a long time.

He nodded and looked at the necklace. A pair of silver antlers on a chain. The only thing he had of her. A simple necklace that he brought with him beyond the wall. The chain had broken so many times from being wrapped around the hilt of his sword. He’d begun to leave it in his chambers whenever he left.

He could still see your face. Your golden hair, cascading down your upper back and ending at your mid back. Eyes that always held happiness when they looked at him. Lips that curled into a smile whenever he held your her cheeks in his hands when she was complaining about the cold.

“How was she? When you arrived King’s Landing?”

Sansa’s face changed. Instead of seemingly remembering you fondly through a necklace she had only seen you wear for a short time, it turned into a worried look. A hesitant look.

“Jon… I don’t think it’s my place to tell you.”

He grabbed her wrist firmly and felt his heart drop. What happened to her? His mind went to the worst. Thinking that maybe she had been killed and word failed to reach them. He feared something so terrible had happened that he would regret ever letting her return.

Sansa sighed and looked from Jon to the necklace. “She had a baby.” She said. Jon felt his heart drop even further down. She had been married off to someone. She had some man’s baby. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way but he did. Gods did her love her. She was so strong willed. So independent. He found it hard to believe that she was married off.

He let go of Sansa’s wrist and walked back to his seat. He sat down in front of the fire thinking about it. He couldn’t imagine her as a mother. Y/N Baratheon mother to a little lord or lady who no doubt had a high name added to whatever beautiful name she had chosen to name her child.

Sansa looked as her brother sat down and she realized how poorly she worded it.

“One day, after Joffrey had decided to humiliate me in front of a crowd for the war Robb was fighting, she took me into her chambers and tried to get me to talk. I remember telling her I just wanted someone from my family. Someone who I shared blood with. She had stood from in front of me and walked to the cradle that was in her room and she walked back over. She handed the small little girl over to me.”

A little girl. No doubt as beautiful as her mother or as curious as her mother.

“She said ‘You do have family in the capital. It wasn’t what I had expected. She told me her name was Lucia Storm”

Storm? That was… That was a bastard name. Not eve the bastard name for the Crownlands but for the Stormlands where the Baratheons had once been in charge of.

“She said that the name Storm meant she and her daughter’s father had never been married and she told me to take a closer look. I did. I saw a pale little girl only a month old. Dark hair that already sat in curls on top of her head. And when she opened her eyes and looked at me, innocent brown eyes. Such familiar brown eyes. She told me to guess who her father was.”

Jon turned to look at his sister as she smiled at him. “She looked just like you Jon. I had family in the capital. A little girl who had your nose and who was so calm as a baby.”

  
He couldn’t believe it. He had a daughter. A little girl who Y/N had given birth to. And he’d missed it. He’d missed so much.

How old was his daughter? Her name was Lucia? A northern name. A beautiful northern name, but a northern name nevertheless.

She had to be three by now. He missed her birth. Her first word. Her first steps. He missed watching Y/N becoming a mother.

You had all been children. She was only fifteen when he met her. He was a year older. The same age as Joffrey had been. She had been a sweet child. He had been a brooding child who somehow fell in love with the princess.

He couldn’t imagine Y/N, so short and so wild in her activities carrying a child through a pregnancy and then carrying that child on her hip.

“Did she go through it alone?”

Sansa nodded. “She never told anyone. No one I knew of anyway. When Joffrey had father imprisoned she and Arya both disappeared. She told me she had gotten Arya out of the castle safely. And no one saw her for months. Not until the day they brought father the sept. She was in the crowd, her hair down in a mess and her stomach protruding. Joffrey had called her up to the stage. And when he took her back to the castle… He locked her in her room for weeks. And one morning… One morning I woke up to screaming. Screaming of pain. I had rushed out to see what was happening and large group of hand maidens were gathered outside of her door. I could hear her screaming. Cersei was right outside the door as well, begging for Joffrey to at least let her and the Maester in. At the very least let Cersei be there for her daughter while she went through the hardest part of becoming a mother.”

Jon looked down to the stone flooring. He felt so guilty. The girl who had fallen so deeply in love with, the girl who had practically stolen his heart the moment they made eye contact had to go through the pain of childbirth without anyone because of the cruelty of her brother. She had to pull her own child from her body and find out wether or not their daughter had been born alive or dead.

“Joffrey refused to let anyone until there was no noise the room. It was a full two hours before there was no noise. None at all. The noise stopped completely at sunrise. No more screaming no crying of a newborn baby. Cersei was close to barging through the door to see for herself if her granddaughter was alright. If Y/N was alright. And she looked tense. And a moment later we hear the squalling from inside the room. And everyone visibly let out a sigh of relife. The princess had a bastard.”

He sighed to himself. A little girl without a father She had a mother. He supposed that’s what most children needed in life. But gods did he want to see what his daughter looked like. He wanted to hold her and tell her the bedtime stories Ned had told him once. He wanted to sing to her the lullabies every child needed to hear.

But he couldn’t. Sansa told him that just a year ago Y/N had left King’s Landing with Tyrion and Varys. According to Sansa, some handmaidens had seen Y/N with Lucia against her chest.

Lucia Storm.

A small, family that wasn’t even a family. Him, Y/N and Lucia. Jon Snow, Y/N Baratheon and Lucia Snow.


	9. Chapter Nine

“He negotiated. It’s what he’s best at.”

“He’s letting them keep slaves for another seven years.” Missandei said with a certain venom in her voice. She never did seem like the type to be angry often.

You nodded and looked to the bed. Lucia asleep, with the covers pulled around her small body. She was much smaller than a normal three year old should be. She was still just a kid though. Who seemed to be more and more shy everyday. So much too to the point she only talked to you, Varys and Tyrion. Even though she seemed very curious with Missandei and Grey Worm.

“Do you think I’m happy about this? Every time I think of a woman forced to be in a whorehouse. I think of the children born to those women who were ripped from their arms and sold like cattle. I think of my own daughter. What if I had never been born a Lannister? And her father had just been passing through a slave city and spent a night in a brothel with me? And nine months later she had been born? The moment I had her crying in my arms I didn’t want to let go. I couldn’t imagine someone ripping her out of my arms before I even had the chance to name her.”

Missandei’s face softened as she looked over to the sleeping child who’s hair surrounded her shoulders and face. Her long eyelashes brushing against her cheeks like her father’s.

“I could never imagine her with chains.” Missandei said.

You could never imagine her in chains either. Such a small girl with barely any muscle. Tyrion had suggested that you begin to teach her how to sword fight. He said that it would help her build muscle that she needed to gain and that a lot of little boys bagan to learn when they turned four. That Jaime had started to learn at 4 and a half.

You had begun to think about it. It never hurt to teach her early. You could get a wooden sparing sword fit for her size, you could start teaching her how to avoid certain situation if they ever arose. You had made a promise to yourself and to her the day she was born. You made a promise to protect her. And you wouldn’t be there for her all the time even if you wanted to be. She would one day be on her own, and if a man decided to put their hands on her you wanted to be sure she knew how to defend herself

* * *

“Since our pact with the masters, how many killings have been carried out by the Sons of the Harpy?”

Lucia fidgeted in your arms as she tried to rest her head. You had begun to teach her the basics. How to hold a sword. She struggled with it and was overly exhausted by having to hold it in her hands. You had been taught when you were seven and onwards. Most people from less powerful houses started learning then. But the only reason you had started then was because you were a girl.

“None.” Grey Worm answered

“And how many Masters have been killed by the free men?”

“Two, but that was the day of the pact.”

Varys and Tyrion had made a deal with the masters. Allowed to keep work the slaves out by the end of a seven year mark. You knew seven years could make a big difference in someone’s life. A fortnight had made a big deal to you.

“So it’s safe to say a fragile peace had taken hold.”

“For now.” You replied as Lucia whined lowly as her dark eyes fluttered shut as she finally found a position in your arms to get comfortable in.

“For now is the best we get in our profession.”

Tyrion was walking back and forth, a sort of pacing with a cup of wine in his hand while he did it. Its what he was good at, drinking.

“It’s not enough.” Tyrion said as he kept pacing

“Considering the city was on the brink of civil war, I’d say it’s a good start.”

“It’s not enough just for Meereen to have peace.” You said quietly

“They need to know Daenerys is responsible for it.”

“She can’t responsible for a peace meeting she wasn’t here for.”

Very quickly you were beginning to see that what Daenerys had taken as her’s was crumbling. She had taken it and as a naive child she thought it would hold under her reign. She was a whole year older than you and you could see the errors in her ways of taking control. She believed everything could become a normal for the citizens.

“The Sons of the Harpy have a good story. Resist the foreign invaders. Our queen has an even better story. Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains and all that.”

The Unburnt.

You looked down at Lucia carefully. A child who just like the queen could touch a flame and be unharmed. Who could hold hot wax and not a mark be on her. You didn’t know how. You didn’t know if you wanted to know. You just knew that you probably shouldn’t tell anyone.

“The people know who brought them freedom.” Missandei said

“Yes, but do they know who brought them security? Who brought about an end to the violence? We need someone the people trust. Someone they know cannot be bought or influenced.”

You held Lucia’s head as she began moving again to get comfortable. Never quite finding the perfect position to fall asleep in.

“Sounds like quite the hero. Where would we find him?”

“Who said anything about ‘him?”

* * *

“So? This farewell?”

Varys nodded as he held a cloth bag in his hands. He was leaving for Westeros. The queen needed allies in the west if she was to take the Iron Throne. She would need as many allies as she could gather to help her fight. People who hated the Lannisters. You just hoped that Tyrion, Lucia and your own safety would be secured.

“I’m afraid so. I do have something for you however.”

One of your brows went up while the other went down in curiosity. Something that had developed in the muscles in your face. He reached into the bag and took out a small box and handed it to you.

It was a deep red colored wood, from an old tree no doubt. It had hinges on it, meant to be a storage box for whatever was in it. You grabbed the lip of the lid and lifted it. No squeaking. Thank the gods. When you opened it you came face to face with a stationary set. Loads of slim long papers you could turn into a raven scroll and normal sheets of paper you could use for a hand delivered letter. There was a pen and ink in the box as well. There where sticks of yellow wax and a stamp seal. Carefully you held the box in your left hand and picked up the stamp seal with the other to look at what it had. It was a fairly large stamp seal. Looking at it, it had a lion in the middle, with a stag to the right of it and a rose to left.

You smiled and looked at Varys. This was perfect. You’d never had a stationary set before nor had you ever had your own stamp seal with a personalized sigil on it.

“Thank you. Thank you for everything you’ve ever done.” You said with a grateful smile.

He nodded and then looked to Lucia who was playing with the doll Loras had given her for her first name day.

“I also have something for you little lion.”

You could feel chills going up your back as you heard that phrase. He walked over to her held a hand out for her to take. “I have a gift for you. What do you say we go and get it?”

You smiled as Varys left the room with Lucia who had happily without a word followed him out. You placed the box on the table of your room and smiled. You already knew who your first letter would be to.

No even a moment later Lucia came back in with a big smile holding something that was a pure white in her arms. Turning your head to see what it was, you saw a small cat in her arms who seemed to have settled in.

“Mama! Look! It’s a baby lion!”

“That’s a kitten, Luci. Was this Varys’s gift to you?” You asked kneeling down next to her to look at the long hair cat.

She nodded happily and held the small animal to her. “What do I name him?”

You looked at the small thing curiously and smiled as you came to a realization. “Robb. Let’s name him Ser Robb. Like your uncle Tommen named his cat Ser Pounce.”

Robb was one of her other uncles. Not that she had ever met him. She could only really remember Tommen if she was lucky.

* * *

“Here’s to our queen!”

You held your wine glass higher than Missandei and Greyworm were and Lucia seemed more distracted by dangling the ribbon she had taken out of her hair above Ser Robb.

“Anyone not drinking is disrespecting our queen.” Tyrion said in a desperate attempt to get Grey Worm and Missandei to drink the red liquid in their cups.

Grey Worm and Missandei slowly raised their cups up for whatever toast your uncle would give to the missing queen.

“To Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, Long may she reign.”

All of you including little Lucia repeated his last words. “Long may she reign.” You quickly drank the entire glass of wine and placed it down on the table while Grey Worm and Missandei took careful sips.

“Do you like it?” Tyrion asked the two

“Tastes like it has turned.”

Tyrion nodded as he walked around Lucia and to the canister of wine and filled his cup up once again. To think you used to chastise him for drinking to much. To think you threw a full canister of wine over a parapet for arranging Trystane and Myrcella’s wedding.

“Yes, yes. Fermentation. One day, after our queen has taken the Seven Kingdoms… I’d like to have my vineyard. Make my own wine. The Imp’s Delight. Only my close friends could drink it.”

You smiled at the thought. You could practically see Tyrion at Casterly Rock with a Vineyard in the gardens. Making wine and sending it in crates to people he knew well enough to trust with what wine he had made.

“Tell me a joke, Missandei of Naath.”

Tyrion had made his way back over to where you were all sitting as Lucia had picked up her kitten and sat down next to you once more. The white ball of fluff sitting in her lap tired out after it’s jumping to try and get the red ribbon that Lucia had now tied around his neck in a bow.

“I do not know any jokes.”

Tyrion looked a bit put out by this as his attention then went to the commander of The Unsullied

“Grey Worm.”

He remained quiet as he looked at your uncle with a blank face.

“Y/N.”

You shook your head “I don’t have any good jokes.”

Tyrion sighed as he filled his cup up more and eyes the small kitten in your daughter’s lap as he took a sip from his glass.

“Three lords walk into a tavern—A Stark, a Martell, and a Lannister.”

“Seven hells.” You murmured to yourself. Missandei and Grey Worm would never understand this joke. They weren’t from Westeros. They didn’t understand the inner workings of the houses and how they worked with or against each other.

“They order ale, but when the barkeep brings them over, each of them finds a fly in his cup. The Lannister, outrages, shoves the cup aside and demands another. The Martell plucks the fly out and swallows it whole. The Stark reaches into his cup, pulls out the fly and shouts, “Spit it out you wee shit. Spit it out!”

Both Grey Worm and Missandei remained quiet.

“Which lords of those three houses? Which Stark? The one beheaded who’s head was put on a spike? The ones who were killed by the Areys Targaryen? Or the one who was beheaded and who’s direwolf’s head was sewn onto his own neck? Which Martell? Oberyn? Who died for you? For his sister, niece and nephew? To try and get vengeance? Or his brother? King of Dorne? Who was stabbed by Ellaria Sand?”

You didn’t mean for it to come out. It just did. Your family had seen so many family houses die out in the past thirty years. First the Reynes of Castamere. Then the Targaryens, then the Baratheons, almost all of House Stark and then all of House Martell.

Tyrion remained quiet as he looked at you. He knew you had a special bond with Ned Stark. Something that had happened very quickly after one of Jaime’s men stabbed Ned in the back of the leg. Right around the time you had been begun to get farther along in your pregnancy with Lucia.

“The Starks and the Lannisters, I thought these were enemies.”

“We weren’t before.” You said bitterly

Tyrion cringed at the tense air in the room and looked at Missandei “Let’s lighten the mood, tell a joke!” He insisted again.

Missandei nodded hesitantly “Two translators are on a sinking ship, and one asks the other “Can you swim?” And the other says “Now but I can shout for help in nineteen languages.”

You remained quiet as did Grey Worm, while Tyrion forced an awkward laugh

“That was the worst joke I ever heard.”

“You don’t even know what a joke is.”

“I am solider. You think I never hear a joke?”

“So you lied to us?” Tyrion asked playfully.

“I make joke.” He said plainly which brought a small smile to your face while Missandei laughed and Tyrion let out a soft Chuckle while Lucia pet her cat quietly.

“More jokes!”

“I once walked into a brothel with a honeycomb and a jackass. The Madam says—“

Tyrion’s joke was interrupted by bells ringing outside the pyrimid. You stood placing a hand on Lucia’s shoulder while both Missandi and Grey Worm stood as well.

You followed after Grey Worm as he ran to the door of the room. You grabbed your sword off of one of the tables you had placed it on.

The masters had come for their property.

* * *

You could do nothing but put Lucia in a cupboard with Ser Robb and a toy or two with a blanket and a pillow to keep her arm. The sound of shouting from outside and the sound of catapults launching whatever they had loaded was a clear sound you thought you’d never hear again.

You were wrong.

“I was wrong. I admit it.” Tyrion said entering the room with Missandei while you stood next to Grey Worm

“That changes nothing.”

“The Unsullied could mount a defense off the beachhead. If the slavers’ forces—“

“No more talking from you. Your talking gave us this.” Grey Worm interrupted.

“And I have acknowledged that I’m sure.”

“Tyrion! Your talking has gotten you into some bad situations, but now you’ve got an entire city in danger! Your little outburst at your trial is the reason you’re here! You could have gone to the night’s watch instead if you had kept your mouth shut! You’re trying to tell us what the army should do! You don’t know what the army should do!”

Tyrion sighed slightly at you yelling at him. No one could ever calm you down when you were angry like you were now. Only Jaime and Cersei had been able to when you were little and easier to pick up and put in a corner.

“All right, what should the army do?”

“We won’t go to the beach.” You said carefully. “If we go to the beach, the masters will see their chance to take the Pyramid. Whoever has the Pyramid had Meereen. We stay here. We defend it.”

“And then?”

“We wait for them to come to us. Then we fight.”

A sudden sound of a crash from outside against the pyramid walls made you look up at the ceiling. That wasn’t what was in a catapult.

You looked to Grey Worm and he nodded. Grabbing your sword you strapped it to your waist and followed Grey Worm, the others following the two of you as well.

You got into a defensive position. Some unsullied going to the door, spears up while you unsheathed your sword and held it up ready to hit whoever was right outside.

Grey Worm took out a small knife and held it defensively as well. Ready for a fight. Very carefully an unsullied open the door and one walked through very carefully with their shield up while the rest of you stayed.

Suddenly the unsullied got on one knee. Your brows furrowed tightly before Daenerys walked trough the door.

* * *

You all stood. In a straight line across from the three masters. Who represented the slave cities that were trying to take Meereen.

“Once before I had offered you peace. If you had not been so arrogant, you could have returned to your homeland with a fleet of ships. Instead, you will flee Slaver’s Bay on foot like the beggar queen you are.”

You looked out to the water. Ships upon ships of all sizes flinging giant balls of fire at the city which had been freed over two years ago.

“We are here to discuss terms of surrender, not to trade insults.” Tyrion said flatly with a straight strong posture as he stood in front of the masters.

“The terms are simple. You and your foreign friends will abandon the Great Pyramid and the city of Meereen. The Unsullied you stole from Kraznys Mo Nakloz will remain to be sold again to the highest bidder. The translator you stole from Kraznys Mo Naklos will remain to be sold again to the highest bidder. The dragons beneath the Great Pyramid will be slaughtered.”

Your brows rose up as you looked at the three men. They honestly believed Daenerys would be the one surrendering today?

“We obviously didn’t communicate clearly. We’re here to discuss your surrender, not mine.” She clarified looking at the men.

“I imagine it’s difficult adjusting to the new reality. Your reign in over.”

“My reign has just begun.”

A small smirk spread across your face as a dragon’s screech ripped through the air. The masters turned but before they could her third dragon flew above you all. The one you had seen flying over old Valyria. The one who had flew Daenerys out of the arena. The dragon then landed on the old watch tower above you all.

You looked up at the dragon as he screeched even louder before jumping down next to Daenerys, his head coming up next to her own.

You watched as the queen climbed onto the back of her dragon and flew off of the cliff with him knocking over the master’s soldiers.

You watched. You watched with a smirk as the other two dragons broke free from their dungeon beneath the pyramid and flew to the ships as well. And an almost satisfied smirk as they set the ships on tire.

Grey Worm stepped forward and spoke to the master’s soldiers in Valyrian. The men placed down their weapons and ran down the hill to the main ground.

“Thank you for the armada. Our queen does love ships. Now last time we spoke. We made a pact. You violated that pact. You declared war upon us. Though our queen does have a forgiving nature, this cannot be forgiven.”

“Our queen insists that one of you must die as punishment for your crimes.” Missandei said

“It always seems a bit abstract, doesn’t it, other people dying?”

One of the masters pushed forward another

“Him! He should die”

“Yes him!” The other piped in in a worried manner.

“He’s not one of us. He’s an outsider, lowborn! He does not speak for us.”

Grey Worm and you both walked forward. His hands behind his back while one of your hands rested on the hilt of your sword and the other rested at your side. You both came up to the man they had been pushing forward.

“Please.” The man pleaded dropping to his knees “Please.”

You pulled out the dagger from your waist and cut through one of the master’s throats while Grey Worm cut through the other’s. Leaving the one in the middle.

You and Grey Worm both stepped back without a word while you straightened out the skirt of your dress and fixed the sleeves as well.

Tyrion stepped forward and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder

“Tell your people what happened here. Tell them you live by the grace of Her Majesty. When they come forward with notions of retribution or ideas about returning the slave cities to their former glory, remind them what happened when Daenerys Stormborn and her dragons came to Meereen.”

* * *

You never wanted to see his face again. The little rat who betrayed the Starks for his own glory. Just to prove himself to a father he hadn’t seen in years. Not since he was just a child.

“Last time we saw each other was at Winterfell, yes? You were making jokes about my height I seem to recall.”

“Last time I saw him, was in dream of me slitting cutting his head off and sewing an octopuses head on his neck.” You said bitterly holding onto Lucia’s hand tightly.

“Yes, I heard you telling Varys that on the ship to Pentos. Everyone who makes a joke about a dwarf’s height thinks he’s the only person ever to make a joke about a dwarf’s height.”

Yara and Theon fucking Greyjoy. In front of your very eyes. The moment you had heard of Theon betraying Robb you wanted to kill him. You wanted to kill him four almost five years ago as well when he had made Jon so upset he had come into your quarters angry. You had let Jon rant until someone his head was in your lap and you were singing.

“‘The height of nobility’ ‘A man of your stature,’ ‘someone to look up to.’ You’re all making the same five or six jokes.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Was making Jon Snow so angry he came to me almost in tears of rage because of you a ‘long time ago’?”

Theon looked to you. He didn’t seem to really recognize you. But then he did. He looked from you to the little girl who’s hand you had a strong grasp on held her doll in her hand.

“It was a long time ago.”

“It was.” Tyrion confirmed “And how have things been going for you since then? Not so well, I gather. Can’t imagine you would have murdered the Stark boys if things had been going well.”

“He didn’t murder them.” You said harshly. “He may have wanted to but he never would have. But he did things just as bad I gather. Maybe worse.”

“And he paid for them.” Yara interjected

“Doesn’t seem like it. He’s still alive. It was complicated for you, I’m sure, growing up at Winterfell. Never quite knowing who you were.” Tyrion breathed looking over the young man in front of you. “But then, we all live complicated lives, don’t we?”

“You’ve brought us a hundred ships form the Iron Fleet with men to sail them. In return, I expect you want me to support your claim to the throne of the Iron Islands?”

“Not my claim. Hers.”

Daenerys looks at Theon questionably, her legs crossed and in what looked to be an awkward position “And what’s wrong with you?”

“I’m not fit to rule.”

“At least we can agree on that.” You spat with venom laced in your voice so heavily you almost sounded like Joffrey or your mother.

“Has the Iron islands ever had a queen before? No more than Westeros.”

“Our Uncle Euron returned home after a long absence. He murdered our father and took the Salt Thron from Yara. He would have murdered us if we’d stayed.”

“What a pity that would have been.” You sneered.

“Be nice.” Tyrion warned

“Have I stabbed him?”

“No?”

“Then I’m being nice.”

Daenerys and Tyrion looked at you concerned while Yara gave you a look and Theon just eyes the dark haired little girl who’s head was against your hip while she swayed her body in a childlike fashion.

“Lord Tyrion tell me your father was a terrible king. You and I have that in common.”

“We do.” Daenerys said with a little bit of irritation in her voice. “And both murdered by a usurper as well. Will their ships be enough?” Daenerys asked turning her head to look at Tyrion.

“With the former Masters’ fleet, possibly. Barley. There are more than 100 ships in the Iron Fleet.”

Theon nodded “There are and Euron is building more. He’s going to offer them to you.”

“So why shouldn’t I wait for him?”

“The Iron Fleet isn’t all he’s bringing. He also wants to give you— “

“His big cock, I think he said.” Yara finished for Theon.

You found it slightly amusing how some men could hype up something that they know isn’t there. It could be there, but they hype it up so much that what they say you know isn’t true.

“Euron’s offer is also an offer of marriage, you see. You don’t get one without the other.”

“And I imagine your offer is free of any marriage demands?” Daenerys questioned

“I never demand, but I’m up for anything, really.” Yara said with a small teasing smile.

“He murdered out father and would have murdered us. He’ll murder you as soon as you have what he wants.”

“The Seven Kingdoms.” Tyrion said more like a statement than a question.

“All of them.” Theon confirmed

You reached down grabbing under Lucia’s arms and picked her up resting her against your hip. You hand resting on her bottom to keep her from slipping down.

“And you don’t want the seven kingdoms?”

“Your ancestors defeated ours and took the Iron Islands. We ask you give them back.”

“And that’s all?”

“We’d like you to help us murder an uncle or two who don’t think a woman’s fit to rule.”

“Reasonable.”


	10. Chapter Ten

You held the flower crown in your hands, for the millionth time in your life, dethorning roses with the same dagger you used to cut Lucia’s cord.

She was off in the corner giggling as she played with her wooden sword. Ser Robb on the table patting at the stems of unused flowers. You placed down the knife and begun to weave the stem through the other stems to add the rose to the crown.

“You’ll turn four tomorrow. And when we land in Dragon Stone, you’ll be five.”

Lucia just giggled and set the sword down running up to you, jumping into your lap. You laughed and set down the crown.

“Will I meet papa?”

“Maybe.”

“Can you call me that one thing you called me once?” She asked happily

“Snow?”

She nodded happily and gave her a forced smile “Of course, little snow.”

* * *

A Year Later

* * *

You stood on the bow of the ship. Looking as the castle got closer and closer. The screeching of seagulls an evident sign that you were near land. This was the home of the Targaryens. All before your family killed them. All before only two made it out. And now, twenty two years later Daenerys was back. To the very place she was born but hadn’t been old enough to remember.

When you were all on the beach you could feel the wet sand caving in ever so slightly with every step you took. You lifted up your skirt and helped Lucia out of the boat looking up at the castle.

“Mama, its a castle.” She said quietly as Varys who had rejoined you all before you left for Dragon Stone held the crate that Ser Robb was in. Lucia had a tight grip on her wooden sword as you all followed Daenerys through the beach. Lucia dragging her sword along with her.

You climbed steps that lead to a stone pathway to the castle. Lucia had gone from wearing ratty clothing to nicer clothes that Daenerys had made for her. A nice dark dress with gold threading and embroidery is what she had decided to wear. Holding onto Lucia’s hand you cautiously followed the pathway.

You all turned a corner to see a large gate. Two stone statues of dragon heads on either side of the gate, stairs leading up to the gate.

If there was one thing the Targaryens were better at than the Lannisters, it was being dramatic about their architecture.

Two of The Unsullied walked to the gate and pushed it open for you all to walk through. This was the most extravagant castle you’d ever seen. From the outside at least. The Red Keep was impressive. But it was personalized for a certain house like this was.

You could see the zig zagging pathway that was built into the hill. The green grass and rocks of the hill reflecting the sun giving it a brighter look.

The throne room was the best part. The large doors to it already being cracked open with a dragon shaped handle bar. Looking up you saw Stannis’ banners. The stag in there center of a flaming heart. So many people you knew… Gone. All because of your family or something your family had done.

Daenerys walked up to one of the dusty moth eaten banners and pulled it down. The ceiling was the highest thing you’d ever seen. The stone cold and polished like the stone in The Red Keep. There was a throne in the back center of the room, a window behind it. The drone seemingly carved out of stone itself.

You felt Lucia’s grip on your hand tighten. You were all looking at the room. It was intimating. Whoever sat upon that throne would’ve scared you. It made you feel like a certain pressure was being put upon you when you stepped in, your shoes making you steps more audible.

You didn’t like it. It felt like something sinister would happen here.

A red priestess. The woman who fed lies to the man you were raised to believe was your uncle.

“I believe you have a role to play. As does another. The King in the North, Jon Snow.”

You could feel your heart drop. You hadn’t heard his name come from someone else’s lips in years. Jon Snow. ‘The Bastard of Winterfell’ who fathered ‘The Bastard of The Red Keep’

“Jon Snow?” You and Tyrion asked in unison. Lucia’s hand was in yours as she stared at the woman who she didn’t know curiously. More than likely curious as to why she was wearing all red.

“Ned Stark’s Bastard?” Tyrion asked

“You know him?” Daenerys asked turning to the two of you.

“I travelled with him to the Wall when he joined the Night’s Watch.” Tyrion said

“I-I” You weren’t able to collect words. The only two here who knew of Lucia’s true parentage was Tyrion and Varys. Everyone else here thought Loras was her father.

“She’s the mother of his child. Lucia is a northerner by blood.” Tyrion finished for you. The red priestess who’s name you hadn’t quite got looked at you shocked. She heard Sansa mention Jon’s child. But now she knew. Now she’s seen the child in person. A short little girl with bouncing black curls atop her head which cascaded down to her shoulders. Pale skin much like his own and the dark brooding eyes much like his own.

Daenerys gave you a look. You didn’t know what the look was but you didn’t like it. Not one bit did you appreciate that look.

“And why do you think the Lord of Light singled out this Jon Snow?”

Varys asked

“Aside from visions you’ve seen in the flames that is.” He clarified

Wait, King in the North? He was a King?

“As Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, he allowed the wildlings south of the Wall to protect them from grave danger.”

Lord Commander?

“As King in the North, he has united those wildlings with the Northern houses, so together they may face their common enemy. “

You smiled to yourself at the thought. Of course he would. Jon Snow of Winterfell letting Wildlings past the Wall to protect them sounded like something Jon would do.

“He sounds like quite a man.” Daenerys said

“Summon Jon Snow. Let him stand before you and tell you the things that have happened to him, the things that he has seen with his own eyes.”

Tyrion stepped forward “I can’t speak to prophecies or visions in the flames, but I like Jon Snow. And I trust him. I would put my niece’s life in his hands. And I am an excellent judge of character. If he does rule the North, he would make a valuable ally. The Lannister executed his father and conspired to murder his brother. Jon Snow has even more reason to hate Cersei than you do.”

Daenerys looked from Tyrion to the Red Priestess then to you and Lucia who was looking at everyone curiously.

“Very well. Y/N send a raven north. Tell Jon Snow that his queen invites him to come to Dragonstone…and bend the knee.”

You had sat down by the candlelight after Lucia had gone to bed. The white cat asleep by the foot of the bed.

You held the pen and ink that came in the stationary kit Varys had given you. You didn’t know what to say to him. What could you say? You hadn’t talked to him in what? Almost six years? Since the morning after your daughter was conceived?

But it was almost as if your hand knew. It knew everything you had wanted to write down on paper for him since the very moment you had fallen pregnant to the very moment you thought you had let go on the ship to Pentos.

* * *

_Dear Jon, The King in the North,_

_Queen Daenerys Targaryen invites you to Dragonstone to create an alliance between the Starks and the Targaryens in the war to come._

_I hope you come. Do you remember when the Seven Kingdoms each had a king and queen of their own? If it weren’t for Aegon Targaryen Ned Stark would’ve been a king. And you could’ve worn a crown on your head._

You remembered the conversation. As he had helped tie your corset back up in the early morning of the day you left Winterfell. You wish you could go back and tell yourself not to leave that room.

“How do you know it’s Y/N? It could be someone trying to lure you into a trap.”

Jon knew it was you. The sloppy hand writing for someone who had been a princess. And that last bit. One of the last things you ever said to him. you had been facing the window of his chambers while he had pulled tightly on your corset, so tight he thought you would stop breathing but you didn’t.

He remembered what he told you.

“If my father was a king, and legitimized me, I’d make you my queen.”

He remembered it because you had turned around, a sad smile on your face. Your gold hair back in the braid style it had been in. How one of your arms rested on his shoulder and the other on his bare chest when he should have been getting ready as well. You were just in an underskirt and your corset. He wanted to go back to that day and just hold you. To pull you fully into his arms again and runaway with you. You could have gone somewhere where no one would find you. Where you could have raised your daughter together.

“Read the last bit.”

“Do you remember when the Seven Kingdoms each had a king and queen of their own? If it weren’t for Aegon Targaryen Ned Stark would’ve been a king. And you could’ve worn a crown on your head.”

Sansa was confused by the statement that was written down “What does that even mean?” She asked looking at the back of her older half-brother’s head.

“It’s one of the last things she said to me. The morning before we left. That last time I saw her.” He said

“You know her better than any of us. You spent a few years with her. You were married to her uncle. What do you think?” Jon asked turning to to look at his sister.

Sansa shook her head in thought

“Y/N and Tyrion are not like the other Lannisters. They were always kind to me, but this is too great a risk.”

Jon gave Sansa a look. He needed to go.


	11. Chapter Eleven

You didn’t know how this came on. Was it the type of wether she had never been exposed to before? She had never really been outside much. Was that the problem?

You hadn’t felt like this since the day she was born. Since she- Don’t think about it. You felt like you failed her then, you felt like you were failing her now. Her fever was the highest you’d ever seen. Tommen used to get some of the worst fevers whenever he was sick. She felt like the fire you had pulled her out of when she was just a baby. When the fire bit at your own skin. Thats what her fever felt like. Her hair slicked back with sweat and her small body shivering despite how hot she felt to you. You draped a blanket over her small body as the white cat curled up her face very carefully as not to wake her.

You spent hours here. In this one position just staring at her. Watching as she tossed and turned in her uncomfortable sleep.

You remembered hearing how such a harsh fever could- could take her life. You were scared. This was the one thing you had been living for for the past five years. You went through hell for six months with Arya in the streets. Trying to protect her. Trying to keep you both fed. Trying to make sure your baby was okay every evening.

The day she was born was the worst and best day of your life. You had done it all alone. Gone through your pregnancy alone, gave birth alone in your room. You remembered catching her small body in your two hands. Two hands that nearly covered her body completely at the time. Now, your small hands barley covered her upper back.

There were so many reasons why Lucia was as short and skinny as she was. Partly because of you, mostly because of Joffrey.

You missed them. They were all dead. People you knew were dropping like flies. All the Baratheons were gone, all thanks to the affair your mother had with your uncle. If it weren’t for her, you would have all been legitimate children of Robert’s. Really and Stannis wouldn’t have died fighting a war about who was the rightful heir to the throne.

Then the Targaryens. Because of your family only Daenerys was left. One went mad so they all had to die.

The Reynes. The believed they could be as powerful as the Lannisters. And your grandfather put a quick stop to that. Killing them all and handing their bodies around Casterly Rock for an entire summer. Men, women and babies. Even the handmaidens were killed. Everyone who your grandfather could get.

The Tyrells. Loras had been kind to you. Claiming Lucia as his own after being forced to marry you by your mother. You wanted to kill her for burning everyone. Only Olenna was left alive. She couldn’t carry on the family name. She didn’t have Tyrell blood, she had married into the family.

All of these people. They were all dead because of your family. Because of Tywin, Jaime and Joffrey.

You could hear the door open behind you. Not a squeak, just the sound of the handle being pushed into your chambers. The heavy door hitting against the stone walls of the room. Awoken by the sound, Ser Robb’s head popped up and looked at the intruder.

You turned your head to see Missandei and one of the dothracki women, who you always saw with children following her.

“Lady Y/N, I have brought one of the Dothracki mothers. She would like to take a look at your daughter.”

You looked at this stranger cautiously and moved aside from Lucia so she could see what was wrong with your daughter.

She took a few steps forward and looked over her. Resting the back of her hand on her forehead and looking over her small face. All the while speaking in Dothracki. Suddenly she stood and turned to Missandei speaking in her native tongue to her before leaving. Missandei’s face dropped. Her eyes going to the little girl.

“Missandei? What did she say?”

“She said she’ll be lucky to see the sun rise and set tomorrow. But if she makes it to rise she’ll live.” You looked down to the stone flooring as she left very quickly after the dothracki woman.

You hadn’t felt this feeling since you left Winterfell. The feeling of your heart breaking as you scooped her up in your arms, holding her close.

“Mama?” She asked weakly not even opening her tired eyes.

“It’s me, little snow.” You said choking back tears as you held her close to you.

“Can you sing mama?”

You nodded and was barley able to get out “Of course.”

“A raven flies from the north to the sea. A dragon whispers he name in the east. The Watcher waits on the northern wall. A daughter picks up a warrior’s sword. A brother bound to a love he must hide. The younger’s armor is worn in the mind, and a cold iron throne, used to hold two boys barley grown. And now it is known. A claim to the prize, a crown laced in lies. You win or you die.”

You could feel her breathing even out as she fell asleep again.

You could remember everyone who made the largest impacts on your life. ANd you could clearly remember Catelyn. The thing she had made for Bran after his fall. How she had beckoned you over to help make one.

She had said only northern mothers make them for when their child is ill or is facing grave danger. And now, here you were. You remembered she called it a prayer wheel. She said that if you were to one day marry Robb, you should know how to make them for your own children if they were ever ill. And now here you were, weaving together a seven pointed star out of thread you had found in the chest in the corner Catelyn had made her’s out of stick and cloth. Whatever she could find. You could only find rocks around the island. So you resorted to this. Threading it together like it was a flower crown. Something Olenna had taught you make whenever one of her handmaidens couldn’t make one for Lucia.

You didn’t know what the night would bring. Wether it was a dead daughter by sunrise who you’d have to bury or a little girl who was ill, but would live.

The past five years, you’d had nothing.Everything you ever had was stripped from you the moment you left Jon Snow. Any claim you could have made to the throne, becoming a mother to highborn children, which was never a thing you aspired to be.

The past five years all you had was a small child who held your hand everywhere you went. A small child who put back together your broken heart after Jon.

When you cried in your mother’s arms it wasn’t because you were scared. You couldn’t ever be scared to bring a child into the world. You weren’t upset you were becoming a mother. You were crying because you didn’t think you could do it without Jon by your side.

You never thought that someone you had met five years ago, and someone you had only known for a fortnight would have changed your life like he did, He looked at you as if there something in you worth looking at. He showed you what it meant to be loved. And you showed him that even a bastard could be loved. And in the end, he gave you a child. Something Tyrion often jokingly said was his parting gift to you.

You didn’t think you could do it. Yet here you were. A sick child in front of you. A little girl who built you back up again after Joffrey had beaten you down, after you could no longer be with Jon. You had raised her. You named her and and you protected her to no end.

Someone so small, who had relied on your body to keep her safe for nine months and relied on you for so long to feed her, so long to keep her warm in your arms wrapped in a silk blanket. Someone so small, you could loose.

You could already feel your heart breaking at the thought of it. The thought of loosing Lucia to whatever illness she had. The strong little girl who could touch fire without being burnt, the brave little girl who was practically attached to you at the hip, the little girl who could one day be so powerful all of Westeros was afraid of her. The little girl who had Stark and Lannister blood in her veins.

You never wanted her life to end this way. To such a simple illness Tommen could have survived dispite being so small the last time you saw him.

You could hear the door open as you were weaving the prayer wheel with the black thread, constantly looking up from the prayer wheel to look at Lucia’s cadaverously pale face.

“Get out.” You said sternly as you pulled on the thread to tighten it around the center of the wheel. You could hear the person take a step forward. You wanted everyone to get away from Lucia. No one but you had the right to by her side right now. When whoever it was didn’t leave you set the prayer wheel down in your lap and turned

“I said get out!”

You froze.

There he stood. Taller than you. His dark curls pulled back in a bun at the back of his head. Hair that was too short to be puled back fell loosely around the nape of his neck. His chest plate was silver with two dire wolf heads facing each other. He wore a vest like his father. The kind that had panels down to his knees as well.

His pale skin being lit up by the candle light in the dark stone room. His brown eyes looking at you. Your own eyes on him. He was older. A few scars on his face. One by his eyebrow that extended down his temple. And one going straight through his brow then stopping, before meeting his cheek. Whatever had done that to him missed his eye.

You slowly stood. You dress falling into place around your shins while you looked at him. You had no doubt he was studying how you had changed as well. Your golden hair in one solid braid like Sansa had done for you once before in Winterfell. He had seen the scar on your cheek. But he was to overwhelmed by the fact that you were hear. In front of him after so long.

Almost six years. And in those six years you had his child. The two of you had a little girl who was laying in a bed ill.

You didn’t know what was doing it. Wether it was an instinct or if you legs just took over. His facial hair had grown slightly longer and thicker. His strangely shaped hairline on full display for you and everyone here to see. You stepped towards him. So close to him the tips of your shoes were touching.

You didn’t know if this was a dream. He was here. Your hand reached up and cupped his cheek. It wasn’t a dream. You knew that now. You could never dream up the expression he gave you. The happy look in his eyes as both of his hands cupped your cheeks, one of them following the clean scar on your cheek. He knew it had to have been a blade. It was too straight of a line for it to not be.

You smiled up at him.

“Will Catelyn still ring your neck for talking to me?” You asked with a sad smile. One of the first things he ever said to you was that he shouldn’t be talking to you. That Catelyn Stark thought it was rude for a bastard to be in the presence of the royal family. That she’d ring his neck for not only talking to you but for letting you hold one of his sparing swords.

He only smiled at you and pulled you in for a hug. His arms wrapping around your waist lifting you slightly while your arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Mama—“

You let go of Jon and he let go of you when he heard the weak voice come from the bed. And when his eyes landed on his sickly looking daughter he could feel his heart throb.

You rushed over to her, moving the prayer wheel and checking her forehead.

“What’s wrong baby?” You asked in a worried tone as you took her out of her covers and into your arms.

“I’m hungry.” She said in a raspy voice.

You looked to Jon as he walked over and took Lucia from your arms. “I’ll watch her. You get her some food.”

You nodded as he held her small body in his arms. Her head lazily against his shoulder and her matching curls strewn around her face and shoulders.


	12. Chapter Twelve

You looked over to the horses. Your sister’s hand wrapped in your own. Tommen holding onto your dress as they loaded all of your luggage into the Wheelhouse. The cold air of the north biting at your tan southern skin.

Jon was packing up as well. Ready to go to the wall. The boy you loved to no end would be so far away by this time tomorrow. You’d be in King’s Landing in a month. And he’d be in Castle Black, a ranger no doubt.

He looked to you from across the courtyard and gave you a sad smile and a nod. His black hair in curls around his face. A light stubble on his face.

You smiled back and gave a nod back before her mounted his horse and your mother ushered you into the wheelhouse with Myrcella, Tommen, Sansa and Arya.

You had begun riding and you could feel your heart breaking. You held back tears as you stared out the window. Watching as Jon rode with his uncle to castle black.

* * *

“I thought I’d never see you again.” You admitted brushing Lucia’s hair away from her face as she slept between you and Jon.

His arm was draped over both Lucia and your body. His chin resting on the top of Lucia’s head, blankets pulled over the three of you.

“Nor did I.” He said with a small smile as Lucia moved in her sleep. Turning so her back was to your chest and her forehead against Jon’s chest.

“She asked about you. Every single day after she found out what a father was. She wanted to meet you for so long.” You said “I told her everyday that you loved her. That if you could hold her you would.”

He smiled and looked down at the little girl. All of this was his. You were the woman he loved. The woman who gave him a daughter and Lucia was his daughter. A little girl who was so sick neither of you knew if she would make it through the night.

“Sansa told me about her. How she was an anchor to remind her she wasn’t alone. How you being there was an anchor. I thank you for that.”

“Lucia was my own anchor as well. If it weren’t for her being born, I would have nothing. After everything that happened with Joffrey… I’m certain I would have ended up were Tommen was. Jumping out of a window. From my own quarters.”

Jon’s gaze went to you worriedly. He didn’t want to think about that. That if he had said no to you that night. That your body would have burned up in a crypt in the great sept of baelor as well.

“I’m sorry for Daenerys. She shouldn’t have taken your ship or your weapons.” You said calmly. He only nodded at what you said and went to stand up again.

“Tyrion told me about your walking dead men beyond the wall.”

Jon turned his head to look back at you. You were now sitting and Lucia half asleep rolling her small body to you for warmth.

“You don’t believe me.” He said more of a statement. As if you had said like you didn’t believe him. You knew Jon Snow. You knew he never lied.

“No, I do. You’re an honest man, Jon Snow.” You said picking Lucia up into your arms and standing. You rounded the bed and stood in front of him.

“People used to believe the Dothracki were just legends. Stories to keep children in a healthy fright before bed. People said dragons were extinct. But they aren’t. The Dothracki aren’t a story. They’re real. And I have no doubt that an army of the dead beyond the wall waiting for a perfect time to attack and kill us all. And if it does happen. I would put my life in your hands. You know that.”

Jon couldn’t help his smile. After so long, You still had a drop of that fifteen year old you. Your eyes weren’t as bright, but they still shined the same. Your smile wasn’t symmetrical like it used to be, instead a slightly crooked one, but it still reached your ears. And now you were a mother, you were protective and always on guard. But not around him.

“When he does come beyond the wall, I will fight by your side.”

* * *

“Your Grace.”

You looked up at Daenerys as she stood next to Missandei on one of the many platforms that lead up to the castle. Some Dothracki right behind her.

Dragon glass. Something that could be used against the army of the dead. Jon seemed to like calling them White Walkers.

Daenerys told the Dothracki to stay there and walked down the stairs with Missandei down to you and Jon. Jon’s hand found yours he turned around to walk back to the mine. You turned your body as well closely following Jon, your hand intertwined with his.

You made your way back to the mine, Davos holding the torch. You gave him a kind smile taking it from him while Jon turned to face Daenerys

“We wanted you to see it before we start hacking it to bits.”

You all walked down the mine, the slim tunnels running straight to the large room that held all of the dragon glass

You handed the torch to Jon and he put it against one of the fire pits that sat in the cave, lighting up the entire place. The dragon glass glistening in the firelight.

“Well, This is it. All we’ll ever need.”

Jon turned to Daenerys looking at her seriously while his hand still held onto yours. You had a sneaking suspicion as to why he kept holding onto your hand. Maybe it was the same reason you kept holding onto his. You were scared this was a dream. That you’d open your eyes and you’d be back in King’s Landing in your chambers.

“There is something else I want to show you, Your Grace.”

You let Jon continue down the tunnels with Daenerys while you looked up at the ceiling. The highest dragon glass would be a pain to carve out and turn into whatever you all needed.

“You love him?”

You turned you head to look at Missandei. She had a small knowing smile on her face. As if she also knew that feeling of love. And she might have. She and Grey Worm seemed very close.

“I do. Five years ago, I resigned to the fact I would never see him again. But he’s here.” You said turning to look at the tunnel he and the queen had gone through. “For the second time in our lives we’re at the same castle. And for the first time in our lives we have a complete family.”

If there was one thing you had wanted for Lucia it was for her family to be complete. For Jon to be there as her father. For him to also be there for those middle of the night scares when she taps on your face to wake you up cause she was scared.

“Lucia must be happy.”

You laughed slightly and nodded “She’s still sick. She’s getting past it, but she’s so out of it she can’t really comprehend that the person who’s been holding her when she goes into a coughing fit is her dad.”

* * *

“What is it?”

Your grip on Jon’s hand tightened when you had walked out of the cave just to be greeted by your uncle and Varys who stood solemnly.

“We took Casterly Rock.”

Something was wrong.

“That’s very good to hear.”

But when Daenerys said this and the two remained quiet, you all realized something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

“Isn’t it?”

“Euron Greyjoy attacked the fleet.”

Daenerys began to walk. The fastest you’d ever seen her walk out of anger. Tyrion was right behind her and the rest of you behind the two of them

“You’ll want to discuss this amongst yourselves. Perhaps—” Davos was interrupted

“You will stay.” Daenerys said.

She already knew that Jon and Davos were trying to go back to the North. You didn’t blame them. Jon was the King in the North. Kings should never be gone from their seat for long outside of war. That was something Robert had said to you before, but you could never remember the context.

“All my allies are gone. They’ve been taken from me while I’ve been sitting here on this island.”

You sighed slightly at her complaining. Loosing Ellaria Sand wasn’t all that bad. You should never trust someone who’s killed a little girl.

“You still have the largest armies.”

“Who won’t be able to eat because Cersei has taken all the food from the Reach.”

You had a feeling Daenerys blamed you subconsciously for everything. You were Cersei’s last living child. She had every right to be suspicious of you. But if she ever tried to accuse you, may the gods have mercy on her.

“Call Grey Worm and the Unsullied back. We still have enough ships to carry Dothracki to the mainland. Commit to the blockade of King’s Landing. We have a plan. It’s still the right plan.” Tyrion reasoned with her

“The right plan!” Daenerys shouted turning around to face Tyrion, her face full of anger.

“Your strategy has lost us Dorne, the Iron Islands and the Reach.”

You shifted uncomfortably as Daenerys and Tyrion argued over this. Jon’s hand gave your own a light squeeze. You stepped closer to him, your free hand gently grabbing onto his forearm.

“If I have underestimated our enemies—“

“Our enemies? Your family, her family, you mean.” Daenerys spared you a glance. An unkind one. You gave her one back as she looked back to your uncle.

“Perhaps the two of you don’t want to hurt them after all.”

Your eyes went wide at the fact that she thought you wanted to hurt your own family. Cersei was your mother and Jaime, you father. You wanted her off the throne. You didn’t want her killed.

“No one hurts my family, and lives. No one.” You said sternly. She looked at you with a glare, her jaw clenched as she turned her head to the ocean.

Jon turned his head to look at you. He knew that no matter how much you wanted to hate your family you couldn’t. You were always very family oriented. You had loved your mother to the moon and back, and you had loved Robert as a father even after you found out he wasn’t.

You all looked to see the two dragons flying over the ocean.

“Enough with the clever plans. I have three large dragons I’m going to fly them to the Red Keep.”

Your grip on Jon’s hand got tighter, and he squeezed your hand more, a small reminder to be calm.

“We’ve discussed this.” Tyrion said

“My enemies are in the Red Keep. What kind of a queen am I if I’m not willing to risk my life to fight them?”

“A smart one.” You spoke

Daenerys kept her eyes on Tyrion before turning her head to look at Jon who had been staring at the sand below his feet.

“What do you think I should do?”

He looked up and seemed to be a little confused as to why she’d ask him

“I would never presume to—“

“I’m at war. I’m losing.”

Daenerys walked to Jon, giving you a small look as she came closer to him before she was only a foot away from him

“What do you think I should do?

Jon looked out to the dragons. “I never thought that dragons would exist again. No one did. The people who follow you know that you made something impossible happen. Maybe that helps them believe that you can make other impossible things happen. Build a world that’s different from the shit one they’ve always known. But if you use them to melt castles and burn cities, you’re not different. You’re just more of the same.”

* * *

“So the queen left? She decided to attack the Lannister fleet that my father is surely leading? She did hear what I said?”

“Yes.”

Jon sat on the edge of your bed, Lucia sleeping under the covers, her dark curls around her shoulders, the cat right her small body, keeping her company.

You huffed looking out the window, hands on your hips. You were unbelievably angry. If Jaime was dead you didn’t know what to do. You already lost Robert. You couldn’t loose your actual father.

“Y/N you have to be calm.” He said standing from the bed and walking up behind you. His hands wrapped around your wrists, pulling your hands away from your hips and wrapping his arms around your waist pulling you to him.

“Your father survived being in my brother’s camp for over a year. He taught you everything you know about fighting. You should have more faith in the fact that he’ll survive.”

“Your brother didn’t have dragons. He didn’t have the Dothracki. He had northerners, and he had the Tullys. He had mercy. Daenerys has no mercy for the Lannisters. Especially my father, who killed her father.”

Jon sighed resting his head on your shoulder. “I believe he’ll make it.”

You turned in his arms to face him. You rested your arms over his shoulders, your eyes meeting his. “He better.”

“Mama.” You looked to the bed from the table top you and Jon where at. Lucia was sitting up looking at Jon from her spot. He curls knotted from rolling around in the bed. Her white nightgown slightly messed up from her being in the bed for days.

“Yes, Little Snow?” You asked. Jon turned his gaze from your daughter to you. Little Snow?

“Who’s he?” She asked pointing to Jon.

You smiled slightly looking down at your glass of wine before looking up at Jon who was just looking at Lucia.

“Lucia, this is your father.” You said with a smile. You could hears shuffling from the bed and the sound of bare feet walking over to the two of you.

Looking to the sound you saw her waddling over to him, her eyes full of curiosity for the man in front of her.

Finally she reached Jon. The two just staring at each other. Their matching eyes studying each other’s faces. Faces with matching skin tones, their curls done differently. Her’s laying down unlike usual, and his up. Unlike usual. Or unlike you were used to.

“Do you love me? Like mama said you do?” Lucia asked after a minute. Jon couldn’t find words. Her small little voice reminding him of how Arya was when she was a small child.

All he could do was nod, looking at this little girl who he had imagined many different ways. He imagined her with your face and his coloring like Sansa had described. And despite what Sansa had told him, he imagined her with your coloring and face. But he could never have imagined a little girl who was even more beautiful than he imagined.

Lucia held her arms up. Something she did when she wanted to be held. Even at age five. Jon didn’t even hesitate before picking her up and holding her.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

You stood on the edge of the cliff, next to Jon who held Lucia’s hand tightly as Drogon flew back to the island his mother was born at.

You turned your head as the dragon flew over head and landed behind the three of you. Jon turned as well to look at the large black and red dragon. The dragon that matched the Targaryen’s colors.

Daenerys was on the dragon’s back as it took large strides to the three of you. It’s roaring loud and clear in your ears. Lucia reached for your hand as well. Lucia was never scared of them. If anything she was fascinated by them.

The dragon roared loudly as it reached you. His neck extending to have his head in front of you all. Jon seemed startled but you stayed still as Jon removed his glove from his left hand and picked Lucia up in his arms and took a step to the dragon hesitantly. The dragon sniffed at Jon’s hand as well as Lucia.

His hand was shaking as he reached out to the dragon. Eventually the shaking hand landed gently on the dragon’s nose.

Lucia reached out. Her smaller hand also resting on the dragon’s nose, feeling the scales that laced his skin.

You looked up to Daenerys as she stared at Jon and your daughter. She seemed fascinated by the fact that Drogon let them touch him.

She stepped down from the dragon’s back, walking forward as Jon and Lucia pulled their hands back from the dragon before he took off into the air to join his brothers.

You looked as the dragon flew away. Daenerys also looking at her children flew in the sky. “They’re beautiful aren’t they?”

“It wasn’t the word I was thinking of, but —“ Jon had looked up from pulling his glove back onto his hand. Daenerys giving him a look.

“But, yes, they are.” He corrected quickly “Gorgeous beasts.”

“They’re not beasts to me. No matter how big they get or how terrifying to everyone else, they’re my children.”

“You weren’t gone very long.” You said

“No.” Daenerys said calmly.

“And?” Jon asked

“I have fewer enemies than I did yesterday.”

Jon and Daenerys talked while walking ahead of you. About the death that war required. How Jon’s men had to kill men to take back Winterfell from Ramsay Bolton. Lucia’s head resting on the fur covered shoulder of her father.

A second later you could hear men speaking Dothracki while walking towards you. A man behind them not in the Dothracki clothing you would have expected. The man speaking stepped aside.

Jorah Mormont.

You smiled slightly as Jorah stepped forward “He is my friend” Daenerys confirmed as Jorah bent the knee for her before standing “Your Grace.”

“Jon Snow, this is Her Jorah Mormont, an old friend.”

“I served with your father. He was a great man.” Jon said

* * *

“So Arya’s alive?”

Jon only nodded before handing you the raven scroll he had opened earlier. You took it from him and unrolled it reading through it.

“Bran’s alive. And he saw the Night King?”

You looked up from the paper to see him leaning over the table in your room, hands rolled into fists as he leaned against it. “East Watch? That’s where the queen is sending you? To what? To your death?”

Jon huffed and shook his head. “Tyrion said I should get one of the Wights. We would bring it to your mother to convince her not to wage war.”

You scoffed before laughing at that notion. “My mother wouldn’t care if you brought her one of those things. She’d let them through the wall to kill all of us and then kill them herself so she can keep the throne.”

Jon looked to you, his brows furrowed as he stood up straight walking over to you with a serious look on his face.

“If you were still in King’s Landing, you’d be the queen. The people of King’s Landing still you want you to be.”

Your own brows furrowed in confusion and disbelief when he said this. Of course he was right. Since Tommen had died, you were the unrightful rightful heir. If that made any sense.

“I’m not a queen. I serve a queen. What do you expect me to do with that knowledge? No one in King’s Landing wants my mother as a queen of course they’d want or anyone else for that matter. King Robert’s bastards had more of a claim than me.”

“Your mother will allow us to show her a Wight if you and Lucia are with us. She’ll believe you on anything.”

You sighed looking down at the raven scroll and scowled slightly “Fine. I’ll go with you all to King’s Landing, if I can also go to beyond the wall with you.” You negotiated.

“Deal.”

You looked up at Jon to see him smiling at you as well as he began to speak “You did protect her?”

You nodded slightly looking back down. “We got out of the Red Keep together. We survived on the streets of King’s Landing together. I lost track of her… I lost her at the Great Sept of Baelor. When Ned was. Beheaded.”

He stayed quiet and grabbed your hand making you look at him. He was only inches away from your face. He smelled like Winterfell. The smell of cooked meat and spices from the kitchens.

“If it weren’t for you, she could be dead.”

You didn’t even expect it. His bare hand cupping your cheek and pulling you into a gentle kiss. You’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone’s lips against your own. The last time you ever kissed someone was your wedding to Loras. And if you were being perfectly honest. Neither of you had wanted to get married. The kiss was really just a peck.

But you didn’t hesitate. His hands going to your hips and holding you there while you kissed him back, your arms wrapped around his neck.

After a moment you pulled away. Looking at him as he tried to chase the kiss. You had forgotten what it felt like to be completely in love like you were now. Like you were years ago.

“I love you, Jon Snow.”

“I love you, Y/N Lannister.”

* * *

“I’m Robet Baratheon’s son. Bastard son.”

Davos seemed concerned. But you just smiled at the man in front of you. He looked like him. Gendry Waters. They had looked for him when Joffrey gave the order to kill them all. All of Robert’s bastards. They said he was dead. But here he was.

“He was meant to keep that to himself.” Davos scolded.

You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter. None of us are going to kill him. Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon trusted each other, why shouldn’t they trust each other?” You said stepping forward pulling Gendry into an unexpected hug on his part. But he didn’t seem to mind as he hugged you back.

“You look like Robert.” You said pulling away from the hug “Is it alright if I call you my brother? Robert was your father by blood, he was mine because he raised me.”

Gendry only smiled and nodded “I would like that.” You nodded and backed up next to Jon who was also smiling “I saw your father once at Winterfell.”

“I met yours in my shop.” Gendry replied.

Jon seemed at a loss for words “You’re a lot leaner.”

“And you’re a lot shorter.” Gendry pointed out with a smile

“we grew up on stories about them.”

“All I ever knew is that they fought together and won. Her Davos told me where you’re going, Your Grace, and why. Let me come with you.”

“Don’t be a fool, you’re not a soilder.” Davos said in an attempt to keep Gendry on Dragonstone.

“No, but I’m fighter. And he won’t be needing a smith with a sword like that.”

“You know how to use one?”

Gendry shook his head no and Jon sighed slightly “Well, that a problem.”

“I prefer a hammer.”

“I believe him. If he’s anything like his father, he’s a good fighter. Imagine it. The bastard sons of two honorable men fighting side by side like they once did. They’d be proud.”

* * *

Your sword was at your hip, You had on light armor and boots you hadn’t worn in a very long time on your feet while you put a bag into the boat. Lucia right by your side.

“Please let me come with you!” She pleaded

“Lucia, I said no.” You said sternly, turning to face the little girl who was just as stubborn as you. Something that could serve her well at somepoint. But now, it was getting her in trouble.

“I wanna go with you and papa!” She whined

“Listen to your mother.” Jon said walking forward picking her up with one hand and holding her against his chest. “It won’t be safe for you.” He said placing her on the dry sand a few inches away

“But papa!”

“No buts.” You responded “Listen to us, little snow, go with Tyrion and Varys. Missandei seems to be very fond of you. If you ask her, I’m sure she’ll play with you.” You said

Lucia sighed when Tyrion walked over taking her hand and leading her away. “We’ll be back little snow.” You said grabbing the front of the boat by Jon as the others began to push it into the water.

“Heave!” Jon said to you all, pushing it into the salt water of the ocean, before each of you all hopped into it once the water was deep enough to row it all the way back to the ship Jon had sailed here on.

Turning your head you could see her. Lucia next to your uncle, her hand in his as she watched you all sail back to the ship.

* * *

You had a cloak around your shoulders, fur lining the top of it to keep you warm. The straps keeping it in place wrapped around your torso.

You took out your sword, strapping it to your waist as Jon walked over to you. “First time you’ll ever see snow.”

“First time I’ll ever see what you’re named after.” You said looking up at him with a small smile. He just smiled back at you looking at the cloak.

“When I told Sansa I was going to Dragonstone she made that for you.”

You nodded slightly. “She always was good at sewing wasn’t she? She made her own dresses. She made one for me one time. I left it in King’s Landing.” You said sadly. It had been a nice dress. A nice pink color that suited your skin color and hair.

When you had walked into East Watch a large man, with red hair and beard greeted Jon with a large bear hug before he pulled away and looked at you. “So you’re the tornado!”

“Excuse me?” You asked confused, hand resting on the hilt of your sword.

“Jon did talk about you a lot. Said you ‘you’re a tornado with pretty eyes and a heartbeat.’”

You laughed slightly looking at Jon as he gave the man a look “I’m Y/N.” You said with a smile. You couldn’t deny the fact that you already liked this man.

You had held your hand out to shake but he had grabbed your hand and pulled you into a large hug instead.

“Y/N, this is Tormund Gaintsbane.”

You nodded pulling away from the hug “It’s nice to meet you Tormund.”

* * *

“Isn’t it your job to talk him out of stupid fucking ideas like this?” Tormund asked Davos.

You nodded slightly feeling Jon’s gaze on you as Davos spoke “I’ve been failing at that job of late.”

“How many queens are there now?” Tormund asked

“Three.” Jon said

You shook your head slightly as he said this. You weren’t a queen. You weren’t a night like Darrhio kept insisting you were.

“And you need to convince the one with the dragons, the tornado, or the one who fucks her brother?”

You looked to Jon as he looked to the table. “He doesn’t need to convince me. I know him. i’ve known him for a long time. I know he’s an honest man. So you can lower it down to the Dragon queen and the incestious one.”

Tormund smiled at you slightly with a look on his face. One that you had seen before. He was warming up to you.

“Alright, tornado. The one with the dragons, or the one who fucks her brother?”

“Both.”

“How many men did you bring?”

Jon looked at you all. Jorah who sat there awkwardly, Davos who seemed very disgruntled by this situation, Gendry who seemed excited to go beyond the wall and you. Who was excited to see snow fall like you were a child.

“No enough.”

“The big woman?” Tormund asked looking at Jon.

Big woman? Oh how many ways that could be taken. Jon shook his head slightly with a knowing smile. Oh, he had a crush on whoever this big woman was.

“We were hoping some of your men could help” Jorah said

Tormund hummed as Jon passed you his cup of ale which you looked at strangely. You’d never even had ale. The only alcohol you ever had was wine. Even then, it wasn’t even good wine. Just something you had grown used to.

You took the cup of ale and took a small sip from it. The foul taste setting into your mouth. You made a face and handed it back to him.

“I’m staying behind.” Davos breathed out “I’m a liability out there, as you well know.”

“You are.” Tormund confirmed.

You looked up to Tormun in disbelief. Then again, you were raised to be kind, raised to be the perfect little lady which you happily turned away.

Davos also seemed to be in disbelief by how blunt Tormund was, evident by how he turned to look at you and Jon. Jon only shrugged slightly.

“You really want to go out there? Again?” Tormund inquired leaning on the table, looking at Jon.

He gave a small nod, the back of his hand resting on your thigh, his palm up. You rested the palm of your hand against his, wrapping your fingers around the back of his hand

“You’re not the only ones.”

“What?”

Tormund nodded and stood. “You lot aren’t the only ones who want to go beyond the wall. Follow me.” You all stood and followed him out of the dinning hall. Your hand still wrapped around Jon’s. Something the two of you had done often before. You walked around the godwood hand in hand just because you liked the feeling of the other’s hand

You followed Tormund down to the cells that sat below the ground, under the building you were in.

“My scouts found them a mile south of the Wall. Said they were on their way here.”

Tormund came to a stop in front of one of the cells. A few men you didn’t know sat around looking at you all. But there was one. He was large. Much larger than you or Jon. Around the same height as Tormund. A man you knew, but hadn’t seen in years.

“Sandor Clegane.”

He turned his head to look at you, he had a blank face as he tried to put together who you were. You understood. You came a long way from fancy yellow and red dresses to thick material shorter dresses that had breeches underneath so you could fight.

“You’re the Hound.” Jon realized “I saw you once at Winterfell.”

Sandor sat up from where he was laying staring at you. Eyeing the scar on your cheek.

“They want to go beyond the Wall too.”

“We don’t want to go beyond the Wall, we have to. Our Lord told us that the Great War is coming—”

“Don’t trust him.” Gendry interrupted “Don’t trust any of them.”

Gendry walked forward from the doorway, coming up to the steel bars that separated the lot of you from the other.

“They’re the Brotherhood. And the last thing their lord told them to do was sell me to a red witch to be murdered.”

You looked at the man who had been speaking. He had an eyepatch over his right eye and seemed to be bored of the conversation

“They worship the lord of light?” You asked “They sold you to a red priestess?”

Gendry nodded as Jorah seemed to recognize another one of the men inside the cell “Thoros? I hardly recognized you.”

“Ser Jorah Mormont. They won’t give me anything to drink down here. I haven’t been feeling like myself.”

“You’re a fucking Mormont?” Tormund asked turning to Jorah “Like the las Lord Commander?”

“He was my father.” Jorah confirmed, as if challenging Tormund “He hunted us like animals.” Tormund said, an anger in his voice.

“You returned the favor, as I recall.”

“Children are not their fathers. Nor their mother. They do not bare the sins or mistakes that they made. Jorah is not responsible for what Lord Commander Mormont did to your people. I’m not responsible for the Mad King’s death. My daughter isn’t responsible for what I have done.”

Tormund growled like an animal would at Jorah, before Sandor seemed to recognize you, but kept it to himself.

“Here we all are at the edge of the world at the same moment, heading in the same direction for the same reason.”

“Our reasons aren’t your reasons.” Davos said

“It doesn’t matter what we think our reasons are. There’s a greater purpose at work. And we serve it together, Whether we know it or not. We may take the steps, but the Lord of Light—”

“For fuck’s sake, will you shut your hole? Are we coming with you or not?” Sandor asked

You stood, hand in hand with Jon, watching as the tunnel’s gate was lifted from the snow covered ground. Sandor, and the Brother hood behind you with Jorah, Tormund and Gendry.

* * *

You looked back at everyone, the sound of howling wind whipping your loose hair back behind you. Jon looked at you, and you looked at him.

You smiled before taking a step forward beyond the wall. You were the first Lannister to ever step foot beyond the wall. And you didn’t know if it felt good or not.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

“How did you make it up here without freezing?” You asked walking along side Jon, hugging the coat to your body to keep warm.

“Walking’s good, fighting’s better, fucking’s best.” Tormund responded as he walked Jon catching up to you all.

“There’s no other living woman within a hundred miles of here.” Jon said

“We have to make do with what we’ve got.” Jon gave you an awkward smile, while you gave a genuine one. Fully amused by Tormund’s speaking.

You stopped walking, waiting for Genry to walk up beside you which he did. Hooking your elbow with his you continued walking.

“First time seeing snow?” You asked. You were both subtly shivering in your thick clothing already covered in the frost from the air.

He nodded and looked at you. You had your hood down unlike him. Hair done up in a braid that wrapped around your shoulder and ended at your chest.

“Is it your first time seeing it?” You nodded as well looking over the snow covered mountains. “It’s beautiful, really. I’m freezing my ass off, but it is beautiful.”

Gendry laughed slightly as you all kept walking. You supposed the plan was to just keep walking until you found a Wight to bring to your mother. Something to make her believe you weren’t all crazy.

* * *

“So, when you left for Castle Black, you had no scars. Callouses on your hands, but, no scars. Where did you get them?” You asked catching back up to Jon, hand intertwining with his own. He looked at you with a smile before shaking his head. You always were curious.

“Where’d you get yours?”

“Uh uh. I asked you first.” You responded.

It was like Winterfell all over again. Bugging him about pointless things. You had often asked what he had planned for the future. He would say he’d tell you later. And he did. Right before he left.

“Where’d you get that one?” You asked, your free hand coming up to point at the scar that went over his brow and skipped his eye before meeting at his cheek again.

“A bird.” He responded reluctantly.

“A bird? Did it attack you? Did Jon Snow let a bird attack him?” You asked in disbelief.

“A Warg took over the bird.” He defended

“Mhm.” You hummed amused “What about the other?”

“I fell and hit my head.” You nodded as he looked at your right cheek. The scar that was so slim and just a slightly more pink color than your natural tan color.

“What about that scar.”

“A fighting pit.” You responded with a smile on your face, a slight skip in your step as you continued to walk through the heavy snow.

“What where you doing in a fighting pit?” He asked concerned

“Fighting.” You answered as if it was obvious. And it should have been “Huh Jorah?” You asked turning your head to the older man

Jorah gave you a look. “She fought well.”

“To think, first time we met you hit me upside the head with a rock and kidnapped me in Volantis, now here we are in the true north, looking for a walking dead man to bring my mother.”

Jon only shook his head. Obviously curious as to what happened to you when you had been separated. He wanted to know. But he didn’t think you’d tell him. That the true things you never wanted to talk about happened then. The one thing he wanted to know was about when you were pregnant. What it was like to have Lucia as a baby. Maybe one day he’d get it out of you.

* * *

“It’s not right for me to have it.” Jon said handing Long Claw to Jorah. The wolf pommel of the sword once a bear for house Mormont. He didn’t deserve the sword. It was in the Mormont house for centuries.

Jorah looked from the sword to Jon “He gave it to you.”

“I’m not his son.” Jon defended, looking Jorah in the eye.

“I brought shame onto my house. I broke my father’s heart. I forfeited the right to claim this sword.” Jorah admitted handing it back to Jon.

“It’s yours. May it serve you well… And Lucia after you.” He said with a small smile. The little girl was already a fighter. She fought through her own birth, a story told by many how the king’s daughter nearly lost her own child in birth. She fought through being without her mother for a month. And then fought through an illness that could have taken her life.

* * *

“I have a beauty waiting for me back at Winterfell. Yellow hair, blue eyes, the tallest woman you’ve ever seen.” You heard Tormund say. The only person in your head that cam to mind was Brienne.

You kept walking as Tormund and Sandor stopped to keep talking.

You all came to a stop when you saw a high peak of a mountain

“That’s what I saw in the fire. A mountain like an arrowhead.” Sandor said pointing to the oddly shaped mountain.

You were all in a line, the wind blowing so hard and wildly that the snow was going all directions. You could barley see in front of yourself as you held onto Jon’s arm for support. Forcing your way through the brutal wind.

Tormund came up to the two of you, grabbing both of your attention as he pointed to one of the men who had gone far ahead of you, his spear in hand as he stood looking at something.

“Look!”

You could faintly see the outline of an animal. A large one. Maybe a bear? It was far away but by the way it was built it was large.

“A bear!” Sandor exclaimed as the man kept walking. “Big fucker!”

The bear turned it’s head, looking at the lot of you. The first thing you noticed was the glowing blue eyes that you could see fro how far away you were.

“Do bears have blue eyes?” Gendry asked before the bear began to run towards you all through the thick snow.

The man that was far ahead started to run back while you all pulled out your weapons. Your sword being drawn from it’s sheath. The same one it had come in years ago.

You held it defensively waiting for the bear to reach you. Not even a second later the man had been tackled by the bear. His head being torn off by the creature.

Jon had ran forward, making you loose grip on his arm “Jon.” You pleaded hearing his feet against the snow. You chased after him seeing the spear the man had been holding at Jon’s feet. You raised your sword. Standing next to Tormund and Jon as you all put your backs together in a circle, keeping each other from getting attacked from behind.

All you could hear was the howling wind, the snow hitting your face and the hood of your coat being blown off of your head. The next thing you heard was the roaring of the bear and screaming from one of the men

You all dispensed from your circle and turned to see the blue eyes bear. It’s skin had pealed away from bone revealing its ribcage. Could the white walkers turn animals? Well you supposed this answered your question.

Jon went to attack hitting the bear with his sword as best he could, the bear grabbing him and flinging him away. Beric and Thoros setting their swords on fire.

You ran to Jon grabbing at his coat and lifting him up slightly from the ground as Tormund ran over helping Jon up.

When you had turned your head you swath bear on fire. “For fuck’s sake.” You grumbled under your breath standing up.

The bear inched towards Sandor who was standing there before Thoros lunged forward hitting the bear who tackled him down to the ground, his flaming sword in the bears mouth.

Tormund attacked with his axe, hitting the bear as hard as he could.

The bear was trying to tear Thoros to parts. He was dying, and it didn’t stop when Jorah put his dagger through the bear’s head. The bear was gone. Really gone this time. But Thoros was wounded.

* * *

You all came up upon a hill, you were behind Jon. His hand in yours to keep you from slipping down the terrain, and one of your hands on your sword in case anymore giant bears decided to attack you.

Jon suddenly stopped. And you could see Tormund holding a hand up to stop everyone. You could hear medal clanking. No one could be making weapons. No one could be fighting. The clanking was tuned into a pattern. Not the kind you’d hear with fighting.

Tormund crouched down slightly walking forward to pear over some low set boulders. You followed right behind him, Jon helping steady you on the steep hill before following you. Grabbing onto one of the boulders you looked over seeing something that chilled you down to your bones. Wights. Being led by one of those things.

“Where’s the rest of them?” Jon asked Tormund

“If we wait long enough, we’ll find out.”

Jon grabbed you, pulling you up and away from the boulder.

They devised a plan. That they would set up a fire to draw the white walker’s attention as well as all of his Wight’s following him. Who was the one to be volunteered to do it? You.

“Why me?”

“You’re the shortest one here, your hair is also the lightest, they’ll only spot you if you’re stupid about it.” Tormund reasoned

“That’s comforting. I’m not fast, I have short legs.” You grumbled taking the firewood they had found and stomping off to the clear ground. You could hear them. The echoing of the medal through the valley.

You set up the wood as quick as humanly possible. Setting rocks up beside it to keep it lit. You had gotten better at lighting fires. Since Lucia had become obsessed with them. You clicked two stones together towards the fire before a spark caught into a flame. You could hear them coming closer. Dropping the stones to the ground you ran bent over to the side where Gendry was, hidden behind a few high set stones.

The Wights and the singular White Walker came to a stop, noticing the fire in front of them. Not even a second later you could hear shouting from Jon as he came out from behind a boulder. Pulling your sword from it’s sheath you ran over.

You went to the first thing you saw. The White Walker. You swung your sword as he blocked you with whatever weapon he had. It looked like one of those icicles that were in storybooks. The one your mother used to read to you, saying if you were ever married off to a northern lord, to be careful of those in the north.

You pushed against his weapon before caving in, letting him swing it to you. Dodging it you rolled a few feet away. The others fighting the Wights. You could hear the running of Jon’s feet as he ran towards you. But you beat him to the punch. Your sword going through the clothing the White Walker was wearing and piercing his ice like skin. You broke apart like ice.

You could hear the rattling of bones as the Wights fell to the ground. All except one. You where on your bottom, knees bent and feet on the ground. Head looking to the one that was still there.

You picked yourself up as it snarled looking at all of you, as you all directed around it ready to trap it like you had all planned to do.

The Wight looked to Tormund, who threw his axe towards your feet, punching the decaying, walking body to the ground and Sandor jumping to lay on it to keep it from getting up again.

The Wight screeched louder than a dragon as a few of the others held it down. You covered your ears which felt like they were going to bleed and drip down your neck.

Sandor tried to cover it’s mouth which only made it muffled before it bit away at his glove. You could hear rumbling. Distant, but loud. You looked to Jon who was already looking behind the group. To the opened area that lead out of the valley.

Looking behind you, you could see the footfalls thundering, the snow from the ground up atop a high hill raising into the air as something was coming down. Jon looked back to the group, but you just kept staring. The ground being completely covered in snow made it hard to point anything else out but mountains.

“Run back to Eastwatch, get a raven to Daenerys, tell her what’s happened.” Jon said to Gendry.

You zoned out, looking to the the snow that was rising in the air. You snapped out of it when Jon grabbed your arm pulling you with the rest of them running through a steep stream of water and you went through a passage way through the valley.

You let your legs carry you, surpassing Jon and staying right behind Jorah. Sandor carrying the Wight.

You ran and not a moment later you were all on ice. Mighty thin ice. Jorah held his arms out to stop you all from running. Actual ice. Ice that was breaking

You came to a sudden stop looking at the cracked ice. You felt it crack under your foot. Looking down you could see the crack keep moving behind you.

You could hear loud snarling. As if it was a large group. Looking behind yourself you could see the Wights. Many, many more coming through the passage you had all ran through a moment ago.

Before Jon could even yell for you all to go you were running. Your own survival instincts taking over. You could feel your feet slipping every time you picked them up to put the other down.

You reached a small plot of land in the center of the frozen water. The Wights circling around the ice, some running through the ice to try and get you all. You pulled your sword once again

Looking around you could see one of the men get tackled by one of the Wights. He crashed into the ground. Ice breaking under him and taking Wights with him. The Wights stopped running. Circling around the ice that was broken.

* * *

Night had taken over. The sky dark as you stood hip to hip with Jon. You hadn’t really realized how attached to his side you had been since he came to Dragonstone. The moment he entered your chambers you were by his side until you went to your separate chambers at night. Something Daenerys had insisted upon.

You had a feeling she had developed a small little crush on Jon. Something you didn’t like at all. Something else you didn’t like? She seemed to be growing closer to Lucia. One of the few people she seemed to be nice too still.

* * *

Day had come once more. Early in the morning. Sun up just barley over the horizon. Jon’s arms wrapped tightly around you. Your head against his chest trying to take up as much heat as you could. Your knees were up to your chest as tightly as they could be. One of his knees bent. One against your back and the other layed straight over your feet, giving extra warmth to your already layer covered feet.

Sandor was next to you both. He was facing behind the two of you, his head on Jon’s shoulder as well, however the opposite one. Jorah was on the other side of the two of you. You could feet his shoulder against your back as you all huddled for warmth to stay alive. Waiting for Daenerys to come.

You jumped slightly when Sandor sat up tiredly as he looked over all of you. Your hand went up grabbing onto the fur of Jon’s coat. One of his hands rubbed circles into your arms to try and create friction which would create warmth.

You felt like your blood was freezing. Like every muscle in your body was so tense from the knowing of the Wights all around you. Your nose felt like ice against the air. The feeling of Jon’s head leaning down and connecting with yours made you tense up more before relaxing slightly. You could feel his breath against your neck, you could see your own breath. You hated this. Seeing Sandor stand you placed a hand on Jon’s shoulder to help yourself up. Standing up you pulled Jon to his feet looking as Sandor kicked the Wight you had with a bag over it’s head.

Jon pulled you back into his arms. You remembered all the times at Winterfell. How the cold then made you shiver. This cold made you feel like crying. But you couldn’t. Your eyes felt like freezing shut and you felt like if you were to cry the tears would freeze on you cheeks.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, burying your head into his chest, the fur of his coat soft against your face.

“Thoros?”

You turned your head, seeing Beric over Thoro’s body. His skin blue from the cold. Eyes unblinking. “Oh gods.” You breathed. You’d seen a dead body before. Some of which were dead bodies because of you. But you’d never once seen someone go like this. In the freezing cold. Looking like all color had been drained from him.

Beric pulled part of Thoros’ coat over his head. Sandor walked over

“They say it’s one of the better ways to go.” He tried to comfort. He took the flask off of Thoros’ body and began drinking from it. Beric saying his prayers to the lord of light. Jon took an arm off of you snatching the alcohol from Sandor

“We have to burn his body.”

Jon let go of you fully letting you lean against a few of the rocks as he poured the ale over the man’s body.

Beric unsheathed his sword, setting it afire like he had done before, touching the patches of alcohol that had been poured on him with the sword. Igniting his body into a flame.

The others were speaking, you were sitting on the ground shivering. But when you looked up to the mountain top you could see it. Five dead horses, standing. Carrying five men who looked to be made of ice. White walkers. And you had a horrible feeling the one in the middle, the one staring at you all very intently was the Night King.

“Dumb cunt.”

You all turned your heads, seeing as Sandor picked up a large rock and threw it over the large expanse of frozen over ice.

Your heart stopped.

The rock landed in front of one of the Wight’s feet. Where the ice had once been broken. Now they knew. They now knew they could cross the ice.

“Gods damnit, Clegane.” You grumbled angrily.

“Oh, fuck.” Sandor muttered as the Wight began to drag his feet over the ice. You stood, pulling your sword from it’s sheath. Watching as more of the dead started to walk.

“Fuck it.” Sandor muttered once more hitting the closest one upside the head with Gendry’s hammer. The same one Tormund made him leave behind.

You hit each one that came to you. Each and everyone falling to the ground when your sword met their skin barren skulls.

The swarm was overwhelming. You were freezing and you were scared. Scared you’d never see Lucia again. That you’d die right here beyond the wall. Far from the place you were born. You were born in the king’s chambers of the Red Keep. You had gone from a pale young girl to a tan skinned young woman. You were a southerner, one far from home. The same home you were growing to miss. The same home Lucia had been born in.

You were loosing faith in your strength. Your strength to keep fighting the dead off.

One of the Wight’s attacked you from behind. Their jagged boney finger scratching against your face and neck leaving trailing of blood in their wake. You threw it off of you cutting it’s neck in half. You could see it. You could see everything. Every time a man’s head was cut off, all you could see was Ned Stark. How Sansa had fainted by your feet and how you had struggled to fight Joffrey.

You felt as if you had failed the Stark family that day. But that never stopped you from moving. You ran to the tip of the little island. The one that had a sudden drop off onto the ice.

You were all cornered. If you fell onto the ice, the Wights would kill you. The Wights were climbing onto the small island.

You looked at Jon before looking up at the sky taking in one more look at the snowy white sky. Something you hadn’t seen before yesterday. Looking forward you pushed Tormund aside hitting the Wights as hard as you could with your sword. Knocking off decaying heads and limbs.

But you heard the screeching of a dragon. Looking back up to the sky you could see Drogon, Viserion. and Rhaegal.

You could feel Jon’s hand grab onto your upper arm pulling you down to the ground to avoid the fire breathing dragons. You could feel the heat from Drogon’s breath as it blew the Wight’s away, melting snow under your feet from the convection heat.

You all watched in awe as the dragons melted ice, the Wights sinking into the water below you all.

Drogon landed on the little island, breathing fire on all the wights who still ran to you all. Daenerys reached her hand down to Jon offering him to come onto the dragon, but he turned when a Wight came to attack him.

Beric took her helping hand climbing onto the back of her dragon. You ran over as quick as you could as Jorah you pulled you along pushing you in front of Tormund to take her hand next.

When you looked up at her, she gave you a smile holding out her hand for you to take. You reached up taking her hand and climbed onto of the dragon right behind Beric.

“Jon!” You screamed when he kept walked, fighting the Wights in front of him. You had all climbed on except him.

You heard the screaming of pain from one of the dragons. Looking up you could see Viserion falling out of the sky, blood from the dragon falling onto the ice.

Drogon screamed out for his brother and you couldn’t help the tears that came to your eyes as he crashed onto the ice, breaking it under his weight and sinking into the cold water.

“Go! Go now! Leave!”

You turned your head, Jon still on the ice that had remained, only a few meters away from the Night King, whatever had been used of Viserion being held by the Night King once more.

“Jon!”

He had turned to begin running back, swinging at the Wights that tried attacking him, but two tackled him into the frozen ice, which caved in, allowing Jon and the dead to fall into it.

You screamed in horror as Daenerys took off into the sky “No!”

The Night King threw the ice spear at Drogon, missing by the beat as Daenerys made Drogon turn to miss it.

“Jorah!” You shouted as he lost his grip slipping from the dragon. Reaching out Sandor caught him dragging him back onto the back of the dragon.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

You hated her. The Targaryen girl who wanted to rule over all of the Seven Kingdoms even though three of them were loyal to Cersei, and the others were rebelling in their own way. The North still it’s own kingdom. Dorne was unknown. As was the Iron Islands and the Reach.

The little Targaryen girl with silver hair who had just left Jon beyond the wall. Which is why you stood where you were. Standing on the top of the wall, looking beyond the human barren land.

You could hear her soft footsteps against the snow that sat atop the icewall. “Y/N?” You didn’t answer. The cold bit at your face, you could almost feel your skin turning purple from the cold.

“I don’t want to talk you.” You responded aggressively.

Daenerys sighed, looking at the back of your head. Hair covered with snow which hadn’t melted away into your scalp yet.

She took a few steps forward standing by you, looking over the land, hundreds of feet down. “You’re not scared of the height?” She asked

“I slept in one of the heights rooms in the Red Keep, and I just rode on the back of a dragon, heights don’t scare me.”

She sighed once more. Your brows were furrows and a scowl was on your face. She just waited with you. Watching. Hoping. You hadn’t prayed in a long time. Not since Tywin chastised you for it when you were a girl. But you prayed to whatever gods there were. The old, the new, the lord of light even.

“He’ll come back. He always does.” You said aloud for her to hear. She looked over to see your angry face turn into a melancholy one. Waiting, for the second time in your life for him. After waiting almost six years the first time. She felt the pain rolling off of you. If she could have Drogo back, and then he was gone again… She didn’t know how she’d feel.

“I believe he will.” Daenerys agreed “Tell me. How did you meet Jon Snow?”

You smiled sadly at the fond memory. And you told her. Everything. Every little thing about Jon that you knew, everything you loved about him and everything you hated. What felt like days up there was just an hour. Sandor, Beric and Tormund had taken the Wight out to the ship, while the two of you stood on the edge of a seven hundred foot drop, talking about the one man you had ever loved.

“It’s time to go your grace, my lady.”

You didn’t even look at Jorah. You just looked out to the white covered expanse. Daenerys looked at you. Seeing the facial expression you wore. A look of pleading.

“A bit longer.” She said back.

You waited. For minutes before she gently grabbed at your arm. A soft subtle way of saying you all had to leave. You felt the tears welling up in your eyes as she pulled you turn away, and you let her. Her arm holding your own taking you to the large stairs that took forever to go down.

The horn blew.

You tore away from her grasp, running back to the edge, grabbing onto the wooden railing looking over “Rider Approaching!” Could be heard from whoever was blowing the horn. Both Jorah and Daenerys walked to your side looking over the edge.

You could see a black horse strutting to the wall, the faint outline of a rider laying on it’s back. Pulling away you ran to the stairs.”Y/N!” Jorah called.

You practically flew down the stairs, shoving past men of the night’s watch. A few minutes later you could hear the gate opening as you reached the snow covered ground.

There he was. Being pulled off of the horse and carried out of the castle to the ship. You ran after the men who were carrying Jon, not wanting to be in the castle without knowing where he was being taken on the ship.

Davos and you had forced the frozen coat off of Jon. His body was freezing and the fall he took in the water probably didn’t help him in the least.

Another man walked over to help you lift him up to pull the thing off of him. After you had taken it off of him you noticed cuts. Deep cuts that weren’t bleeding. They were deep. Deep enough to have killed him? Why wasn’t he dead?

* * *

“You’re awake.” You stated with a small smile. The ship had sailed here from Dragonstone with everyone. Lucia had happily fallen asleep next to her dad in the bed.

Jon’s eyes fluttered open, looking at you. A small smile gracing his face as well. He could feel the small weight of the small little girl that was his daughter. “Tornado.” He teased

Your smile grew, your eyes crinkling up as you looked down at your lap, sitting in the chair next to the bed. “I still don’t understand why you compared me to a tornado.” You admitted

“You’re a storm. A rare one that when it comes back around makes up for lot time. Destroying more than any other.”

You nodded in understanding. Looking at his chest you saw the cuts again. You would go as far to say they were stab wounds. “What about those scars?” You asked, calling back to the conversation you had with him beyond the Wall.

He shook his head in response. “Another time.”

You nodded again in understanding. You understood never wanting to talk about certain things. You didn’t want to talk about some things. You never wanted to talk about Lucia’s birth. You never wanted to talk about the day Ned was killed. That entire time in your life seemed as if it would never let up. Yet here you were. Sailing back to the same place all of those things happened at.

“Get some rest. We’ll be in King’s Landing soon.”

* * *

The castle was as you remembered. Large and an imposing eyesore in the skyline of the city. This was the place you were born. The place Lucia was born. The place both of your brothers had died. And the place Myrcella’s body had been brought.

“How’s it feel to be home?’ Tyrion asked looking at the castle with just as much hate as you.

“I wouldn’t call this home.” You responded as Lucia stood, her head against your stomach as she leaned back into you, also looking at King’s Landing.

“How many people live here?” Jon asked

“A million, give or take a few.” You responded.

The city you had grown up in no longer seemed like a home to you. The large castle so familiar yet so foreign. A place where so many lived. Where some shouted your name. Wanting you to be the queen instead of Cersei, instead of Daenerys.

You weren’t a queen. Daenerys had a blood right to the throne. More of one than you. Although you never liked her, she would be a better queen than your mother.

“That’s more people than the entire North crammed into that. Why would anyone want to live that way?”

“There’s more work in the city and Tyrion would argue the brothels are better. They are the largest brothels. Women with no important names go there to work. Bastards, foreigners, widows. They all add up after awhile.” You stated. The fleet of Greyjoy ships altering the view of the city for you.

* * *

You walked the dirt road, your sword at your side. Lucia in Jon’s arms. You hated your mother, but from the last few times Cersei and Lucia were together, they loved each other to bits. Lucia hadn’t been exposed to all Cersei had done. All Lucia knew her as was her grandmother. If there was one thing you could do for Lucia, it was give her one last good memory of Cersei.

You were meeting far away from the castle in the same place were dragons used to be kept to keep them from burning citizens. You’d never been there. But you knew one thing, no one had been there in over a century.

“Why did they build it?”

You looked at the stone structure. It was falling apart. Worn into different colors that more than likely never existed on the walls before.

“Dragons don’t understand the difference between what is theirs and what isn’t.”

“I still think we should have left her on the ship.” Jon grumbled hefting Lucia up so she wouldn’t keep slipping.

“My mother won’t hurt her.”

Jon looked at you and looked to his daughter. Her hair down messily around her shoulders, a nice black dress with gold and red threading on the shoulders, and her feet bare. Something she always insisted on. Saying it bugged her toes.

You came to a crossroad. Lannister troops marching towards you with Bronn at the head of them. And behind a few guards you could see Brienne of earth with a fur coat on, much like your own and of course Podrick.

“Welcome, My Lords.” He greeted. You cleared your throat in an annoying manner. He looked to you before nodding “And, My Ladies. Your friends arrived before you did.” He added gesturing to the absurdly tall woman and the squire.

“I’ve been sent to escort you all to the meeting.”

The Lannister troops cleared way for you all, and you began a steady pace. Giving a smile to Pod who had once been very kind to you and Brienne who had protected Sansa Stark according to Jon. Something you would always be grateful for.

“Y/N-“

You knew the Dothracki were supposed to go ahead of you all. But if it was a trap, you’d be the one to find out. Because you knew your mother. You knew how she acted when plotting. The moment you saw her you’d know. And if she gave off that feeling. You’d alert them.

You continued down the road, everyone behind you as you heard conversations behind you between Podrick, Brown and Tyrion.

You walked into the arena. The stone steps, barley steps anymore. And in the center platform, seating for your mother. But no mother.

You looked to Jon who held his free hand out for you to take which you did, walking to one of the side seating, taking a seat next Lucia and Jon right next to her. Trapping her in-between the two of you to keep an eye on her.

The quiet took over. The sounds of birds chirping. The sound you wished you could hear at Dragonstone. You rarely heard it Meereen. Barley any trees around for them to nest in. Dragon stone was too cold. But gods damned King’s Landing had the perfect weather for chirping birds and septs burning with green fire.

You could hear the sound of medal armor as people moved down one of the falling apart corridors. Turning your head you could see her. Your mother, in all black and a crown atop her head. A silver one which was on every single Queen’s guard armor.

Her hair was cut short. To the nape of her neck. Something you’d never seen a woman have before.

She walked up the steps to the platform and stopped in the middle, looking at you. Her eyes tearing up as she did. You wore black like everyone else here. But threaded throughout the dress was red and gold. Symbolizing the house you came from. But your hair, just as bright as her’s. And your eyes, shinning the same as Jaime’s always had.

“Little Lion.” She said with a sad smile, holding her arms out.

You didn’t know what to do. So you stood from your seat. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you as you approached her. You could feel your own eyes watering, but not for the same reasons as her’s.

You made it to her and felt her arms wrap around your body. Your own arms wrapping around her’s.

You missed this. You missed still being a child, not knowing what your mother was and her holding you like this. Holding you as if you were the most important thing in the world.

You pulled away as Cersei looked to Lucia who was slowly walking forward as well. “Hello, little cub.” She said holding a hand out for Lucia to take so she could hold her.

Lucia looked to you and you only nodded. She allowed Cersei to pull her into a tight hug, her hand holding the back of Lucia’s head, the curls covering the sight of her hand.

You were back at your seat when Cersei set her down. Lucia running towards Jon slightly confused as to who Cersei was. She wouldn’t remember, she had been too tiny to remember.

“Where is she?” Cersei asked.

“She’ll be here soon.”

Looking to the empty seat that should have held Daenerys, you shook your head looking up to the sky waiting for her. She’d be here any second.

“She didn’t travel with you?” Cersei asked Tyrion.

“No.” You responded.

Not even a moment later you could hear the screeching of the dragons. Something she had told Lucia she was doing. To which Lucia had told you.

It was a smart move. To fly in on one of her dragons. To show what she had if Cersei decided to wage a war.

Daenerys took her seat. Acting as if it had just been a normal thing for her to ride in on a dragon.

“We’ve been here for some time.” Your mother chastised.

“My apologies.” Daenerys lied.

Tyrion stood from his seat, walking to the middle of the platform as he began to speak to you all

“We are all facing a unique—“

“Theon!”

You looked to the man you assumed was Euron Greyjoy. The uncle of the little rat who was named Theon.

You sighed in exasperation. Clearly not wanting this to go on. Wanting to get to the point.

“I have your sister.”

Your eyes widened as you looked to the man. He was a middle aged man, looked like the type to drink and go to brothels regularly.

“If you don’t submit to me here, now… I’ll kill her.”

“We have bigger matters at hand? Don’t we?” You asked. You weren’t shocked he had her. Theon had told you all Euron had her. You were shocked he stopped Tyrion for this.

“Then why is he speaking? He’s the smallest concern here.”

You tilted your head giving the man a look as he looked straight back at you as he stood from his seat next to Qyburn who had a golden hand of the queen pin on his robes.

“Do you remember when Tyrion discussed dwarf jokes?” You asked Theon. You could feel Tyrion smiling at you. What you didn’t notice was Daenerys and Jon also smiling at you.

Theon nodded “His wasn’t even good.”

“He explained it at the end. Never explain. It always ruins it.” Tyrion finished.

“We don’t event your kind live in the Iron Islands. We kill you at birth. An act of mercy for the parent.” Euron said to Tyrion.

Euron had made his way in front of Tyrion. The two of them having an intense stare down that was hurting you physically as you watched it.

“Perhaps you ought to sit down.” Jaime asserted.

“Why?”

“Sit down or leave.” Cersei demanded.

Euron looked back at your mother before back at Tyrion. He scoffed before returning to his seat.

“We are a group of people who do not like one another, s this recent demonstration has shown. We have suffered at each other’s hands. We have lost people we love at each other’s hands.”

You looked down at your lap. You had done so much harm to your mother. And she did so much to you. Tyrion hurt the two of you as well. Tyrion sent Marcella off to Dorne. Something the two of you had been enraged by. You killed Joffrey. Her first child and you hurt her. She burnt the Great Sept of Baelor. She killed all of the Tyrells. And Tommen had loved Margaery. No matter how much of a conniving little bitch she was, he loved her. Cersei knew it too. And because of Margaery’s death, Tommen killed himself.

“If all we wanted was more of the same, there would be no need for this gathering. We are entirely capable of waging war against each other without meeting face-to-face.”

You never wanted to kill Joffrey. You knew his reign had to come to an end somehow, and when Olenna offered up the deal, you took it. Without a second thought of how it would affect anyone else.

“So instead, we should settle our differences and live in harmony for the rest of our days” Cersei commented in a condescending tone.

“We all know that will never happen.”

“Then why are we here?”

Jon stood from beside Lucia, ruffling up her hair as he walked to were Tyrion was

“This isn’t about living in harmony. It’s just about living. The same thing is coming for all of us. A general you can’t negotiate with. An army that doesn’t leave corpses behind on the battlefield. Your Grace, your daughter tells me a million people live in this city. They’re about to become a million more soldiers in the Army of the Dead.”

Lucia pulled on your sleeve “What’s that?” She asked. “You don’t want to know.” You responded.

“I imagine for most of them it would be an improvement.” Cersei smirked at Jon.

She had a distain for Jon Snow. A clear one. One that was only there because of what he put her daughter through. For how her first grandchild was brought into the world. From a screaming, scared fifteen year old girl locked up, alone in her bedroom.

Jon stepped forward “This is serious. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t.”

“I don’t think it’s serious at all. I think it’s another bad joke. Just as bad what you put my daughter though. And if my brother Jaime has informed me correctly, you’re asking me for a truce.” Cersei turned to Daenerys directing her attention to her.

“Yes. That’s all.”

“That’s all? Pull back my armies and stand down while you go on your monster hunt. Or while you solidify and expand your position. Hard for me to know which it is with my armies pulled back until you return and march on my capital with four times the men.”

You turned your head, glaring at your mother as she leaned forward in her seat, looking at Daenerys with hatred, a challenge in her eyes.

“Your capital will be safe until the northern threat is dealt with. You have my word.”

“The word of a would-be usurper”

“There is no conversation that will erase the last fifty years. We have something to show you.” Tyrion said firmly as you stood as well walking up between Tyrion and Jon.

“Mother, we brought proof of what Jon has said. If you don’t believe it, this will make you. We’re not liars here. We’re just trying to preserve what’s left of the world. We can’t have the Army of the Dead killing off half, while the rest of us fight in a war killing off the rest..”

Sandor walked up the steps carrying a large medal crate. The one you had all barricaded the Wight in. You going as far as to put the largest thing you could find on the ship over it.

Sandor set the box down on the platform before unchaining it and removing the lid of the crate. He looked inside of it, hesitantly. His hand resting on his sword. Once again, very hesitantly Sandor kicked the crate over and out came stumbling the Wight.

Lucia’s scream pierced the air and the sound of someone wearing armor running to her, grabbing her. You looked at the Wight moving aside for it to move forward. Sandor pulling on it’s chain to yank it back before it reached Cersei.

You turned to see Lucia being put down by Jaime and running to Cersei who was the closest person to her that wasn’t across from the Wight.

The Wight turned to Sandor, running to him. He pulled his sword out cutting the Wight in half. Yet still it moved.

Sandor cut off one of it’s hands and it flung forward. Qyburn, as you weren’t surprised by was the first one to grab the severed hand that still moved it’s fingers.

Jon walked to the reject maester taking the hand and holding out a torch for Davos to light which he did.

“We can destroy them, by burning them.” He said setting the hand afire. He dropped the hand pulling out a blade you had made for him out of Dragonglass “And, with dragonglass.”

“If we don’t win this fight, then that is the fate of every person in the world.”

Jon stabbed the Wight, killing it.

Lucia jumping out of Cersei’s arms and into your own which gladly picked her up and held her to your hip.

“There is only one war that matters— The Great War. And it is here.”

“I didn’t believe it until I saw them. I saw them all.” Daenerys clairfied.

You could hear the muffled crying from Lucia as she sobbed into your shoulder. The fear racking through her body.

“How many?” Your father asked, looking at the Targaryen.

“A hundred thousand, at least.”

Euron walked forward to the Wight, bending down to touch it’s hair. “Can they swim?”

“No.” You and Jon responded.

“Good. I’m taking the Iron Fleet back the the Iron Islands.”

 _Coward_.

“What are you talking about?” Cersei questioned

“I’ve been around the world. I’ve seen everything, things you couldn’t imagine, and this…This is the only thing I’ve ever seen that terrifies me.”

And with that Euron was leaving. You tried to quiet down Lucia’s crying but it only got louder. “Shhh, it’ll be okay.” You whispered to her.”

“He’s right to be afraid. And a coward to run. If those things come for us, there will be no kingdoms to rule. Everything we suffered will have been for nothing. Everything we lost will have been for nothing. The crown accepts your truce. Until the dead are defeated, they are the true enemy.”

* * *

This room…You hated this room.

The stone walls, the open porch with two seats you had rarely ever sat on. The canopy bed. You hated the door. That fucking door that always announced someone’s entrance.

When you looked at the grout in-between the stone, close to the doorway, you could see deep brown stained the white. The deep brown once a bright red color.

The window. It looked over the city of a million people. The window you had sat at so often. The sun would always shine through the window in the early morning. That was always the thing to wake you up. The sun against your eyelids.

Nothing had changed. The bed was still unmade like how you had left it. The tried out ink in it’s cannister with a rusted pen. A yellow piece of paper on the desk. One of Lucia’s old toys on the bed. The one she had been sleeping with when she woke up. The night she had woken up and you whisked her away onto a ship.

“What’s this room?”

“My room.”

You’d propped the heavy door open, placing a chair against it so it wouldn’t close. Jon had followed you in. You were all told to stay in the arena while Tyrion talked to Cersei.

You stared out the window. You and Sansa used to stand here. Hip to hip with one of you holding Lucia’s small body. Talking about what civilian you’d like to be. What civilian you’d like to be to get away from Joffrey or Cersei. All depending on what the day had brought.

“Not very… You, is it?”

You smiled and shook your head, turning to him. You knew what he really wanted to say. While he wasn’t wrong you knew. You both did.

  
“What do you really want to say, Jon?”

He sighed slightly looking at you. He wanted to know.

“What happened in this room? You have that face. The face you always have when you hate something.”

You nodded, looking down at the polished stone. You hated this room. You hated this city. It was warm in weather, but the Red Keep was so cold. So much had happened in the castle. It all started right after you all arrived back from Winterfell.

“Lucia was born here. On that bed.” You said to him.

You never wanted to talk about this. But you knew eventually you had to get it off of your back. You had to tell someone about how you had felt in that moment. How badly that day scarred you.

“Do you want to know the whole story?”

He nodded and went to the stool the was by the bed. He unknowingly sat in the stool that you had always sat in when you read a story to Lucia.

“I protected Arya. And we spent months on the streets. We did our best to get food. I would steel pastries from bakers, Arya would kill rodents and then cook them. We were out there so long my stomach grew. I was giant. I had to be close to giving birth. And one day, I followed a crowd when Arya went to get food, and it got me to the Great Sept of Baelor. Ned was there. Joffrey, Cersei and Sansa. And I stood near the front. Holding onto my stomach. Joffrey looked into the crowd. He spotted me. So quickly. He called me up. And after your father was… Joffrey dragged me in here. Threatened me and our baby and then locked me in. For weeks. I got food maybe once or twice.”

The tears had started to build up, wanting to pour onto your cheeks and down your chin. But you blinked them away, sitting down at the windowsill, looking at the bed.

“Every morning I would wake up to the sun on my eyes, a pain with in in my back. One morning… It was just the pain. The sun wasn’t even up yet. I stood out of my bed… And I could feel liquid running down my legs. And when I looked, it was blood. So much blood. It looked like I had walked waist deep into the ocean, but instead of water it was blood.”

Jon couldn’t fathom it. He could never imagine it. You, as gorgeous as you had always been, disheveled in the morning with so much blood on yourself. He didn’t want to know if that was normal or not.

“I’d ran to the door and I banged on it. I yelled and pleaded for Joffrey to let me out. That my baby was coming. He didn’t. I accepted the fact that I had to do it on my own.”

You pulled out the dagger Tyrion had given you so long ago. The same dagger that had come into handy so many times before.

“I grabbed this dagger, and that blanket.” You said gesturing to a severely discolored blanket that laid across the back of a chair.

“I had gotten back on my bed… Knees propped up. And I did what I felt like I had to. I pushed. I pushed as hard as I could. Every. Single. time. I screamed. I screamed so loud and so much my throat was rubbed raw for weeks after. At some point, I remember reaching between my legs, and feeling her head. The blood, matted down her hair. I still could feel her hair it was so thick, even then. I pushed. And I pushed. And a moment later she fell into my hands.”

You paused, lip quivering as you thought about it.

“I had laughed in relief. And for a moment … I thought everything was okay. The I realized, she wasn’t crying. And when I looked between my legs to see her —“

Your own sobs had stopped you from talking and Jon had engulfed you into a hug. Your body shaking as you even remembered something you had tried so hard to push down.

“You don’t have to.” He said

“Yes I do.” You sobbed pulling away. “I looked at her, and the cord- the cord was wrapped so tightly around her neck she was turning purple. I grabbed her and I undid it. I begged her to cry. I begged her. And a moment later her crying ripped through the air. The maester came in after my mother. He took our baby. He took her for hours. And when he came back. He said she small. Too small. That she would be lucky to live past the fortnight. All because Joffrey refused to give me food. He said that because I’m smaller woman, and that because of the amount of blood, it would be best if I never had more. That I could die. And if I ever had another they could die.”

* * *

You had returned back to the arena. Jon had remained quiet.You couldn’t tell if he felt guilty for what had happened five years ago, when he wasn’t there or just because he was brooding over it.

But you stood, next to Jon as Cersei and Jaime came back. Cersei looking angry and Jaime as if he’d just seen all of the hells and what they really were.

A truce had been settled. A full one. The Lannister armies would be sent north to fight along side you all in the war.

And when you went to leave is when it happened

“Y/N. Why did you do it?”

You turned your head to your mother. She looked angry. Like something had been plaguing her since she had arrived back to the worn down arena. Jon also stopped walking. Everyone stopped walking when you did. All turning their attention to you and Cersei

“Do what?”

Cersei’s brows furrowed as she looked at you.

“Why did you kill Joffrey?”

You froze. Th fear overwhelming your body as Jon’s eyes widened and Tyriron’s as well. Tyrion was the one who had been put on trial for your act of murder. Not that you expected him to like you after. You knew he’d hate you. And Jon… You never really anticipated this.

“Why did you _kill_ Joffrey?”


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Cersei’s gaze was a mix. You didn’t know how to describe it. You’d never seen it before. A mix of anger, sadness and some sort of impressed.

“What do you—“

“Olenna said she did it. I was able to put it together. Tell me, what would you have done to Ellaria Sand? If you had gotten the chance?”

What was she doing? You didn’t know how to respond. Of course you had plotted on how to kill Ellaria for a long time. You thought about it at night. One of the few things that was a constant in your day-to-day life. You hesitated, looking to Tyrion who looked at you angrily before you turned away.

“I would have poisoned one of her daughters.” You admitted “Make her feel the loss of someone she loved deeply. So she’d know how it felt for someone who did nothing wrong to be taken.”

Cersei smiled slightly “You never wanted to admit it, but you are more like me than anyone else.”

Your eyes filled with anger. Tyrion had been the first to say this to you. You had been angry with him, for even planning to send Myrcella off. Plenty of others had said that to you.

“I am nothing like you! You are conniving! An evil woman obsessed with the crown! All you wanted as a child was to marry a king! You’ve always gotten what you wanted! I have gotten nothing! I didn’t ask to be alone with a baby! I didn’t ask for anything that happened, to happen! Nothing went as planned! You claim to be a lion. The queen of the lions. All you are is poison, in the lion den. You are the reason that I am your only child left. You didn’t raise Joffrey with morals, you never told him no. You treated him like an angel that could do nothing wrong. Someone had to put an end to it. It would have happened without me. And a spiral happened! It got Myrcella killed! It got Tommen killed!”

Cersei looked at you. You looked like you could kill. Your brows, a darker color than your hair, like her own, furrowed down so far that it looked like you had no eyelid crease. Your nose had a thick line going through the bridge that was there out of anger.

“I would be dead too. But I got out of your grasp before I could get killed from your antics. I will go on to be the last Lannister alongside Tyrion, cause you will drag down Jaime with you.”

Jon held Lucia close to him. You were leaning one shoulder forward, the other back as you yelled at your mother. Your shoulders tense and your fists balled up.

“I will survive longer than you. So don’t worry mother, your daughter is a solider.”

* * *

You walked through the streets, guards surrounding you. There was one place you had to visit before leaving. The Great Sept of Baelor. What was left of it anyway. Jon and Tyrion with you. Missandei having taken Lucia back with the others to the ship.

The ruins of the building still stood. Burnt to the ground in an explosion. The bricks and even some of the decor from inside the sept littered the street leading up to the plot of land which once held the large building.

So here it was. The place were the Tyrells died. Where so many innocents burned alive because of your mother. Because of her greed to keep her children. Her greed for everything to be her’s.

“So this is it?” You asked. “A building that my brother and sister were buried in? A building that my own grandfather was buried in? Where Robert was buried? All burned because of my mother.”

You said it with venom in your voice. A hand gently grabbed onto your arm. Looking up and to your right you saw Jon. His features holding sorrow. He knew you wanted to love your mother. But Cersei always made that hard for you.

You sighed looking down. You had collected a few things from the Red Keep. A doll that Sansa had cherished. The last thing Ned had ever given her. And a few things of your own.

You picked up your dress, walking through the ruins. Walking into what used to be the sept. You could still see the walls. The seven pointed star on all of the walls. You’d been in here for burials, for weddings. You had grown to hate it with a strong passion. Never wanting to come back here. But now, you felt obligated to come. Loras had been kind to you. He had claimed Lucia as a Tyrell. Just to help make her life as easy as he could.

You looked to the ground, noticing something that was blackened. Walking forward you bent over to uncover it. A crown. Margaery’s crown. The roses blackened and the antlers of the crown blackened and broken off.

You’d never liked her. But she had brought Tommen happiness. She never deserved this death. No one deserved this. To be burnt alive, while just an innocent.

“You didn’t deserve this.” You said aloud. You took the crown outside. Looking at Jon and Tyrion.

“This was Margaery’s. She was a little wicked bitch, but Tommen loved her. She didn’t deserve this. No one here deserved this. Not Loras, not Mace.” You said coming down the stairs, setting the drown on the post of the railing.

“Queen Margaery Tyrell, Lord Mace Tyrell, and Ser Loras Tyrell. You never did anything wrong. I am so sorry for what my family has brought upon the world for the past 10,000 years.” You said walking away from the sept.

* * *

“Is that her?”

“Queen Y/N!”

You could hear it all as you walked back to the docks. You made it to the front of the docks. “Your Grace!”

You’d had enough. Turning to face them all, they’d all surrounded you. Jon and Tyrion had gone ahead and

“All hail the queen!”

“I am not your queen!” You yelled back. They all looked to you. Silence hushed over the crowd.

You remembered when you had all walked back to the Red Keep, how they had thrown mud pies at Joffrey, calling him a bastard, a freak and plenty of other names in the book.

“You want me to be your queen? After what you did to my brother? Do none of you remember? You threw mud and called him names, calling him a false king! Calling him a baby born out of incest! I am his sister, why do you treat me any different? He terrified you, why would I be different?”

* * *

“Why did you kill him?”

You looked to Tyrion as you stepped onto the ship. You knew your answer. You knew it very clearly.

“He would have killed more innocents. I failed everyone when he killed Ned. I couldn’t fail anyone else. If I hadn’t, he would have gotten his hands on Lucia. I would’ve failed her. I couldn’t fail her grandfather then her.”

* * *

You had put Lucia to bed. Having for the first time in her five years of life, putting her in a bed of her own in a different room. You sat in your own. You weren’t a queen. You never would be. What the crown had done to families terrified you. You could always think back the the War of the Five Kings. You didn’t want to start a war. The War of the Three Queens had a nice ring to it though.

Nothing would stop you from protecting the North as best as you could. Your daughter had never once been in the North. But she was Northerner by blood. Stark blood ran through her veins. Lannister blood ran through them. She should have been the one to unite the houses. The one to bring piece. But her birth had meant nothing to the houses.

Sitting at the desk in the room of the ship you drew small doodles. Some of crowns you had seen throughout your life. Cersei’s first one, to this one. Robert’s, Renly’s, Joffrey’s, Tommen’s and Margaery’s. You drew what you thought Robb’s would have looked like. What Myrcella’s would have looked like if she ever became the queen of Dorne.

A knock sounded at the wooden door. A door that didn’t squeak. One that smoothly opened and closed. The wood having many bolts for decoration on the outside and inside. The Targaryen sigil littered the entire ship. Especially on all of the doors.

Standing from your desk, you placed your pen down. Closing the cartridge of black ink. Storing it away in it’s rightful box, you walked across the wooden floors, your footsteps audible throughout the room and undoubtably outside of the door as well.

Your hand grasped at the doorknob, pulling the door open towards you. Exposing the former King in the North. Jon Snow.

His dark eyes wider than what their usual size was. He stared at you, in awe. Your dress had been changed. The now dark grey dress hugged at your body, some fur poking out of the sleeves and collar, used to keep you warm from the expected cold of the North.

His hair was pulled back as it usually was. His cloak off as he stood, his plate of armor over his sternum, his northern clothes something you had grown used to about him. Something you never expected him to change.

You stood, staring at him as well. You somehow knew what that look meant. You knew that look. One of the last looks he had given you when you were just children. And you didn’t say no. You pulled the door open and let it swing slowly into your room for him to enter.

He walked into the room, without a single word. He stood in front of you as he grabbed onto the door, closing it behind him. You looked at each other, and you could both see it in the other’s eyes. It was like you were both fifteen and sixteen again.

“Jon.” You said quietly, a small smile coming across your face.

“Y/N.” He breathed out, taking a step to you. You took one to him, arms wrapping around his shoulders, his hands resting on your hips, Just inches apart. Looking up at him as he leaned down to capture your lips in a nervous kiss.

You happily let his lips attach to yours. Your left hand going up, cupping his cheek as he became more bold, moving his lips against your own. Your right hand went to his shoulder, undoing the buckle that held his chest plate in it’s place. Your left hand dropping from his cheek down to his left shoulder undoing the buckle there.

You pulled away from him for a moment, pulling the chest plate off and over his head. Holding it in one hand, dropping it down to the wooden floors.

His eyes were filled with lust. His grip on your hips tightening slightly, turning your body as he began to undo the ties that held your dress in it’s form. You could feel the pulling as he pulled on each tie to loosen the fabric from your body. You could feel his hands find their way through the loose fabric, snaking their way to your shoulders, pulling the grey dress down your body. Leaving you in a corset and a petticoat.

His hands went to your waist, pulling you against him. His lips finding their way to your neck, kissing and biting down as he pleased at the skin that was tanner than his own.

Your own hands grabbed at his before turning yourself around to see him. Your hands found his sides, eyes never breaking from his own as you undid the buckles that kept the vest in place. He helped you pull the vest over his head.

He took your hand, leading you to your bed. You stood in front of him, next to the bed as he looked at the corset. He began to undo it. The ties for it being in the front this time. While he had occupied with undoing the corset, you took your time with undoing his quilted shirt.

You both took in the moment. Watching as every inch of your bodies was exposed to each other with each tie you undid. His bare chest coming into view. The gashes in his chest showing themselves to you.

Your corset fell off of your body as he pulled the string that held it in place out of the eyelets. Your bare breasts shown to him. The stretch marks on the sides of them, the tops and bottoms. You pushed the sleeves of his shirt off. He pushed the petticoat off of your hips.

The stretch marks on your hips and stomach hadn’t fazed him. He just leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His hands wandering your completely bare body. Hands caressing every mark left on your body, every bruise and scar. You undid the ties on his breeches as he turned the two of you. Pulling away from the kiss and sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling you to straddle his lap.

Your knees rested at both of his hips as he pulled you in for what felt like the millionth time. This time his tongue grazed your lips as if asking permission to enter your mouth, something you had granted him without a thought behind it.

You felt drunk on lust, an almost overwhelming feeling. He pulled you down against his member which had made it’s presence known to you. The sudden jolt of adrenaline kicked in when you felt him against your center, him pushing yourself against him causing friction.

Your hands found their way to the back of his head, undoing the bun at the back, releasing his hair from it’s constraints letting it loose around his neck. You ran your hands through his hair as Jon’s tongue explored your mouth as if he had never once done it before.

You pulled away from the kiss, connecting your swollen lips to his shoulder, trying to catch your breath.

He pulled you away from his shoulder as he laid you down on the furs of the bed, his lips grazing against your chest. He rested both of his arms on either side of your head, trapping you were you where.

The heat pooled between your legs as he marked a trail of kisses over your neck and chest. Giving special attention to your collarbone, a place that had been a weakness to you before, and appeared to still be.

You breathed out in pleasure as he pulled away, his hand finding it’s way between your legs. You inhaled sharply. Your hand grabbing onto his shoulder tightly as he moved his fingers between your folds.

He played with you, his head leaning against yours as his dark eyes looked into your own as you struggled to not close them. You subconsciously thinking it was a game of sorts. Whoever looked away first lost.

He pulled his fingers away. You let a out a pitiful moan at the loss of contact as he pulled down his breeches.

He crawled over you completely. His face, once again inches from your own.

“We don’t have to.” He said quietly.

You shook your head, cupping his cheeks, pulling him into a kiss. “I want to.” You whispered to him before connecting your lips.

He had grabbed onto his member, aligning it with your entrance. The head pressed against your center before finally sinking into you as slowly as he could.

You moaned out into the kiss, grasping onto his shoulders as he stilled inside of you. Waiting for you to adjust, and to tell him.

You pulled away from him and nodded. “Move.”


	17. Chapter Seventeen

The air was cold, stabbing like needles against your cheeks, the clothing that was wrapped tightly around your body being the only thing keeping you warm, that and the smaller, warmer cheek of Lucia practically glued to your own as you carried her. Her small arms resting around your neck.

The gold fabric of your dress was a slight contrast to the light beige of Lucia’s, the medallic trim of her dress also contrasting the red medallic trim of your own. And both of your dresses contrasting Jon’s dark leather.

“Welcome to the north, little snow.” You whispered to her, though you were almost convinced that she had fallen back asleep after you had woken her from her bed. A bed she hated, mainly because you and Jon had insisted that she learn to sleep on her own.

“I believe she’s asleep.” Jon laughed, walking shortly behind you, able to see her brown eyes shut tightly and her dark curls covering most of her face. When he had helped you dress the child, you had to practically hold her up due too her drowsiness. Her red silk handkerchief keeping the sensitive skin around her neck warm.

“Knew it. She no doubt stayed up doing whatever she does until she fell asleep.” You joked as you you walked to the ramp. The one that lead down onto the snow covered wood of the dock of White Harbor.

The North.

The land of Ned Stark. The man who had watched over you like you were his own after you had told him about your pregnancy.

The land of Robb Stark. The young wolf, the dead King In the North. The one who you were to one day marry.

The land of Arya Stark. A young girl who you promised Jon you’d protect. And you did, risking everything to get her out of the Red Keep and far away from Cersei and even your brother.

The land of Sansa Stark. Another young girl, you didn’t promise to protect, but you tried to anyway. The young auburn who Lucia had loved to bits, even if she was too little at the time to remember her now. She was sweet, innocent. Perhaps you had seen a bit of Myrcella in her. Maybe that was why you were so fiercely protective of her, like she was your own kin. Why you killed a king for her and Lucia’s benefit. You would kill again for her. You knew you would.

You sometimes regretted not going with her and Littlefinger, maybe you could have prevented the marriage between her and the Bolton bastard. The son of a man who killed her brother and mother.

“Y/N, we have to get off.”

You nodded slowly, a hand coming to hold the back of Lucia’s head firmly. “I know, I just want to go back to my room.”

Jon smiled. Coming to stand next to you, an arm wrapping around your waist, holding you and Lucia closer to him, “The northern people will accept you.” He murmured to you

“No they won’t. Even seven years ago they didn’t except me. After what my family has done. After Ned and Robb, Cately-“

“After what you did for Arya and Sansa. She was always very open about her relationship with you. How close you two were in King’s Landing, how you tried to protect her through everything Joffrey tried to do to her. After you protected Arya, they may not like your blood, but they will accept you, for me, Sansa and Arya. For carrying a northern child. For 9 long months in your womb, and for seven longer years in your arms.”

You smiled slightly “I don’t think they’ll except Lucia as a northerner. They’ll believe she’s a southerner because she was born in King’s Landing.”

“Robb was born in the Riverlands.”

“But he was raised here.” You responded firmly, looking up at him. “He was raised by your father here in the north. Lucia has only just met you Jon, she didn’t even know what a father was until she was a few years old.”

Jon’s face fell as he looked to his daughter. He had regretted ever letting you leave Winterfell that day. If he had known what would have happened, he would have stolen you all away, all of his siblings, and you and your unborn daughter. He would have found a place, so far away from everything.

“She is still our daughter. She will be what unites the north with the Lannisters.”

* * *

Lucia rested against your chest and stomach, uneasy about the unsullied and dothracki around her as you rode by them through the small town that accompanied the large castle on the hill.

Lucia had begged for you both to ride next to Jon, but Daenerys had quickly taken that spot as her own, so you rode close behind them both. She had been upset. After meeting Jon for the first time, she wanted to be around him as much as she possibly could. When she had begun to cry shortly after you told her she would be able to ride with Jon the next time, even if you didn’t know when that would be. But she had still been sniffling as you directed the horse to follow the long line of unsullied and dothracki.

You looked at the crowd that had gathered around the slim rod that went through the village. Mainly looking to your left as Lucia was still nervous. But your eyes landed on her.

Arya.

Her deep Stark brown hair met her shoulders like it had when you were both younger. But now, her face was clean and no mark of dirt was seen. The sword she had killed a boy not much older her when you had escaped, strapped tightly to her hip with another shorter dagger.

You made eye contact with her, a smile spreading on your lips as you passed by her, tears welling up in your eyes. You never thought you’d see her again, but here she was.

You turned to face forward, leaning your head down slightly to kiss Lucia’s head. Arya had never even met Lucia, and Lucia had only ever heard you and Jon speak of the girl.

The screetching overhead from the dragons didn’t frighten you or Lucia, but Lucia had looked up suddenly when she heard it. 

* * *

The walls of Winterfell were so foreign, yet so familiar. The last time you had come here, all you had was your siblings to accompany you. And when you left you had brought Lucia with you. Now, you returned with Lucia A place that should have been her birthplace. Not some room you had begun to loath in King’s Landing.

“Welcome home.” You whispered to Lucia.

“This is home?” She asked as you rode through the gates to see the line up of people standing there, waiting.

“It always has been.” You said with a big smile as you saw Sansa. An overwhelming amount of happiness pumping through your body, the smile on your face couldn’t be contained. You stopped your horse, hopping off of it as soon as you could, running to Sansa as Jon had done the same to greet Bran.

Sansa’s smile was almost as big as yours, tears welling up in your eyes as you made your way to her. Arms wrapping around her as her own wrapped around you.

A small laugh made it’s way through your lips as you held onto her almost for dear life. “I should never have let you go with Baelish alone, if I had known, I would’ve left with you.”

“But you didn’t know.” Sansa responded, pulling away from the hug as Norah helped Lucia down from the horse. Her short legs carrying her to you arms wrapping around your waist tightly.

You laughed as you looked down to see her staring suspiciously at the auburn. “Lucia?” Sansa questioned. “It can’t be you, the last time I saw you, you were so small still.”

“She’s grown, and can hold a full conversation now.” You responded. Jon came to give Sansa a hug, something she gladly excepted from him before pulling away and kneeling down to hold a hand out to shake Lucia’s. Knowing Lucia couldn’t possibly remember her.

But Lucia had practically thrown herself into Sansa’s arms instead. A tight grip around Sansa’s neck.

Sansa laughed to herself, excepting the hug and standing up with your daughter in her arms. Her head resting on Lucia’s small shoulder as she held her tightly.

“Aunty Sansa.” Lucia whispered happily “You remember?” Sansa whispered back, so quiet neither you or Jon could hear her. “Kinda.” She responded happily resting in Sansa’s arms.

You turned to Bran. “I hope you did get my letter. The one I sent when we returned to King’s Landing?”

Bran nodded

“I did.” He responded flatly. You only nodded back as Jon began to speak “Where’s Arya?”

“Lurking, somewhere.” Sansa said giving a side eye to Daenerys, almost as if warning her. But she approached anyway.

“Queen Daenerys of house Targaryen”

You watched as the smaller girl, who stood next to Bran as he sat in his wheelchair, gave the silver haired woman a warning glance just as Sansa had,

Lucia had pulled away from Sansa’s shoulder, Sansa having her rest on her hip as she approached, a warning glance given once again.

“My sister, Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell.”

“Thank you for inviting us into your home, Lady Stark. The North is as beautiful as your brother claimed, as are you.”

You wanted to laugh at that.

Flattery. She thought she could win Sansa over by flattering her. Giving her compliment. Had Jon not told her of all Sansa had been through? You hadn’t seen Sansa in years, and yet, you still knew that she was fiercely protective of her home, and her blood.

Sansa had a small smile of amusement as did you as she sized Daenerys up. Before heffing Lucia even higher up on her hip before turning her glance to you.

“Winterfell is yours, Your Grace.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. As Daenerys turned her head to look to you, a glare clear as day on her face, and Jon had a look of worry, both facial expressions you weren’t paying attention too as you looked at Sansa before Bran began speaking.

“We don’t have time for all this. The Night King has your dragon. He’s one of them now. The Wall had fallen, the dead march south.

All attention was given to bran now. All worry about the hatred that was steaming off of Daenerys for you, was out of your mind. The safety of everyone in the seven kingdoms now on on your mind as Lucia looked at her uncle curiously.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

“As soon as we heard about the Wall, I called all our banners to retreat to Winterfell.”

You sat, next to Sansa and Jon. Daenerys’ seat on Jon’s other side though she stood facing the fire. You knew exactly what he was trying to do. Separate you both from the dragon queen. Knowing the animosity you both held for the Targaryen. Her silver hair practically unwanted by all the lords of the north who all looked at the head table you were seated at. Lucia had happily stayed Gendry who offered to watch her.

The Baratheon bastard and the King in North’s Bastard got along fantastically. Something that was discovered when she asked if he could play a game with her on the boat, to which he happily obliged. Ten minutes later he was accusing her of cheating, while she giggled as if it was the funniest thing in the world to her.

“Lord Umber.”

A small boy’s head peaked out from the side of a larger man. He was just a child, he didn’t look more than five years older than Lucia. Such a small thing he was.

“When can we expect your people arrive?” Sansa asked.

“We need more horses, and wagons, if it please my lady.” He said after he stood and walked to the center of the hall.

You remembered having feasts in this hall every night you had been in Winterfell. How you had walked out that door to see Jon hitting a wooden dummy with a burlap sack over it. It felt like a lifetime ago that you had met. Scars had met both of your bodies, you both lived very different and apart lives for a very long time.

Everyone in this room had.

“And, my lord.” Lord Umber said, acknowledging Jon’s presence next to you. He then turned his attention to you, a small smile almost hesitantly on his lips “And you, my queen. Sorry.”

You smiled back, and shrugged “This isn’t my land, it’s Sansa’s and Jon’s. Though, Sansa did say Winterfell was mine. We’ll give you as many as we can, to get your people here to safety.” You said “Only if it’s alright with Lady Stark?”

Sansa turned to you with a small grin playing at her face “We’l give you as many as we can spare, hurry back to Last Hearth and bring your people here.”

Daenerys took her seat.

“We need to send ravens to the Night’s Watch as well. There’s no sense in manning the castles anymore. We make our stand here.

The maester nodded and gave a small bow to Jon “At once Your Grace.”

“Your Grace”

The young girl who had stood next to Bran when you all came to the front gates. She was not pleased, her face holding bitterness for Jon as she stood and walked to where Lord Umber had once stood.

“But you’re not, are you?”

You looked down at the wooden table, biting the back, left side of your tongue. You knew how the north would feel. After all, the Northern people were stubborn, brave and could at times, be downright cold hearted. They hated outsiders. You were throughly surprised that the dothracki and unsullied hadn’t been killed by the common people. Then again, after hearing stories about the Dothracki screamers, no one would want to go against them.

“You left Winterfell a king and came back a— I’m not sure what you are now.”

You looked to Jon as he maintained stern eye contact with the younger girl.

“A Lord? Nothing at all?”

Jon looked down to the stone flooring next some lord’s foot, as she spoke, the venom in her voice getting to him, the almost loathing feeling that was rolling off her had to be getting to him.

“It’s not important.”

Not important? To the north everything was important. The northern people said it best. “The North Remembers.”

The fuckers remembered everything down to a T. You had no doubt some of the men here despised you for what Joffrey did, for what Tywin had done.

“Not important? We named you King in The North.”

A burst of yelling broke out among them. They had, and he had given up his crown. Not that you had been there for it, you had left Jon’s room when Daenerys entered after he had returned to East Watch and you had begun your voyage to King’s Landing.

It went quiet. “You did my lady. It was the honor of my life. I’ll always be grateful for your faith.” Jon stood from his seat “But when I left Winterfell, I told you we need allies or we will die.”

You watched as the young girl sat back down

“I have brought those allies home to fight alongside us.”

You looked to Dany, head turning in unison with Sansa’s although you didn’t seem to notice it. You both looked at her with an absent expression. Of course you would. And all she did was look right back at you. Eye’s locked with yours as you stared each other down in the absence of Jon’s body blocking the eye contact.

“I had a choice, keep my crown or protect the north. I chose The North.”

Like Daenerys will do anything.

Daenerys’ eyes squinted in irritation, and the the small murmuring could be heard, your eye contact still holding up with her’s.

It took you a moment, but you finally realized why everyone was staring at you and why Daenerys’ had given you such a hateful look. You’d said that aloud. You turned your head back to face the crowd as Tyrion stood from his seat, rounding the table to stand in front of it, facing the northern people.

“If anyone survives the war to come, We’ll have Jon Snow to thank. He risked his life to show us the threat is real. Thanks to his courage, we have brought with us the greatest army the word has ever seen. We have brought two full-grown dragons. And soon the Lannister army will ride north to join our cause.”

You audibly laughed at that. As the lords broke out into complaining once more. Jon looked at you as did Sansa a look of disbelief on both of their faces, thought for very different reasons.

“You believed that? You seriously believe that Cersei Lannister, the woman who lied to Robert Baratheon for sixteen years about four bastard child born out of incest were his, the woman who tried to have you killed at the Blackwater, you believe that she will truly send the Lannister army up to north? The woman who schemed and plotted everything who lied to everyone for years, she would all of a sudden start telling the truth? No.”

You stood from your seat next to Jon.

“She wouldn’t risk her troops being threatened by someone who would have them burned alive if they didn’t bend the knee the them as soon as they came here.”

You could feel Daenerys’ eyes on you, her glare trying to burn through the back of your skull.

“The Lannister troops are not coming north.”

You sat back down, huffing in the process, looking up to Jon who looked like he was pleading with you in a way.

“How are we meant to feed the greatest army the world has ever seen? While I ensured our stores would last through winter, I didn’t account for Dothracki, Unsullied and two full-grown dragons. What do dragon’s eat, anyway?”

“Whatever they want.”

* * *

Lucia was still happily being watched by Gendry, helping carry dragon glass to the forge, with Gendry.

“You claimed him as your brother.” Jon stated as you watched Lucia carry five large pieces of dragon glass.

“I never once met him before Dragonstone. But… I don’t have much family left. An uncle who I’m sure hates me, for letting him go through a trial for a murder I committed, a father who probably hates me for killing Joffrey, a mother who… I don’t even know. And a daughter. All the blood have left. And I’m sure he hasn’t much family either.”

You watched Lucia as her legs carried her close to Gendry, an arm’s full of dragon glass as the went through a gate to the forges.

“You and Daenery-“

“Don’t” You interrupted. “She is a fool, a power-hungry fool. But a fool.” You said, beginning to walk away, going to try and find something in the godswood you had left years ago.

“Would a fool be able to regain power of her cities?”

You stopped in your tracks, looking over your shoulder to him “The only way a fool could back a city she forcefully took, was with dragons. You weren’t there. I was.” You responded, turning to face him, “She had killed innocent men, just because they were in the nobility as the others. She left us all to die in an arena when that dragon came to get her out. Darrio and Jorah and I fought our way out. Killing men who were too afraid to attack us without a mask. She isn’t brave Jon. She’s nothing without her Khalasar, her bought soldiers and her dragons. All she has is a pretty face and a nobel, incestious name.”

You looked at Jon, before looking down at your shoes. “Can we not talk about Daenerys? I want to see if I can find something.” You responded, holding your hand out for him to take. 

He smiled, a genuine large smile, like the one he had given you when you first dragged him into the godswood. The dark that had surrounded you both as you walked past trees, how he said he knew everything about you even though you had just met, the torch he carried the only light to guide you. But you swore, you would have gone in there blindly if his voice or laugh had been the guide. 

He placed his gloved hand in your own as you dragged him down to the godswood.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

The godswood was covered in snow. The leaves on every branch being weighed down by a teaspoon of snow sitting on top of it. You had never seen it this way. Only ever seeing a thick coating of frost on the leaves and the crisp smell of the morning air that would barley get warmer by noon.

So many things had happened since those crisp mornings. Death, birth and war. But even now, the scorch marks on the branch over your head. “Here” You told him

“What?” He questioned stopping his pace next to you once he had caught up to you. You remembered it all so well. You had seen it for years when you closes your eyes. How the orange of the flames lit his face up in the dark.

“Eight years ago. Right here. I had snuck out of my chambers, just to see you. And right here, It was the first time I ever kissed you. The first time I ever truly knew what love was.” You said to him.

He looked at the mark on the wood of the tree. He remembered it. But that hadn’t been when he realized he loved you, It wasn’t when he felt what love truly was. He felt it when you held the sparing sword up to his neck during the feast, after your uncle had gone into the dinning hall. He felt it when, even after telling you he was a bastard you still talked to him.

“It was a good moment.” He said with a smile. “I was being a bit arrogant.” He admitted.

“A bit!?” You exclaimed “You had the audacity to say you knew everything about me!” You laughed, turning to face him a large, toothy smile on your face as he pulled you into his chest, his arms tightly secured around your hips, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“I certainly didn’t know that you would suggest a certain thing.” He alluded

“That I would suggest we bed each other?” You asked bluntly

“You could put it that way.” He said leaning down to kiss you, his lips barley on yours for two seconds before he pulled away, not even a full two inches away from your face. “I sleep in the same room again, maybe you could meet me there tonight.” He suggested

“I’ll think about it. But only if-“

“The fire?”

You nodded eagerly “The fire sets a mood. Besides, I bet it’s cold.” You said pulling from the embrace and walking through the trees to the large weir wood tree, the blood red leaves lit up by the sun, and the face still the same as you remembered it.

You felt Jon walk up next to you. “I have to check on Lucia” You stated turning to face him “I’ll see you tonight.” You said walking away.

* * *

“Mama! Look what Uncle Gendry made me!”

Lucia held up a small blade made of dragon glass a pommel made of polished red wood. “Lucia!” You shouted running to her side and snatching the blade from her hand “Do not wave this around! This is not a toy your wood sword is! This is a weapon!” You chastised

Lucia nodded, apologetically “Sorry, mama”

“It’s okay, I just don’t want you to get hurt. Only use this in emergencies, understood?”

She nodded as you turned to face Gendry who worked on an axe.

“Why’d you make her a weapon?” You inquired. You didn’t mind if she had one, but, you had never said anything about wanting her to have one.

“Jon asked for it to be made. Said she should have something incase something tries to grab her.”

You nodded looking over the blade. “It’s well crafted. Fit for a young lady.” Handing it back to Lucia and said “We should be getting you aquatinted with your room.” You said holding your hand out for her to take.

Her small, pale and soft hand grasped onto yours as she hopped down from her spot on the semi clean work bench. “Thank you, brother. For watching her.”

“Anything for the woman who claimed me as her brother.” He joked

You smiled at Gendry, picking Lucia up resting her on your hip, “Everyone man needs a sister, and every woman needs a brother.” You responded, taking your leave to the castle.

The room was nothing how you remembered. The room circular, the bed against the wall… The window that overlooked the main courtyard.

Gods, this was really what it was? You remembered being so thrilled to have this room, able to look out over the Starks as they went about their day. You remembered Miza tying your corset as another handmaiden got your second petticoat out and another grabbed your furs.

It was another life ago. You weren’t fifteen anymore. The light had been burned out of your eyes. Your love for the world ripped out of your chest and burned in the fireplace of your room in the red keep.

You remembered meeting with Joffrey, walking to a breakfast with him, arm in arm as he spoke of his betrothed, Sansa Stark. You had listened intently, looking back at how he had spoke of her, it was like he was speaking of someone you should be jealous of.

He had sounded… Happy. It could have been false, a facade he put up, like the one Cersei had always put up. You remembered his happiness had made you happy, hoping that he had truly met the girl who would give him a lifetime worth of golden and red haired children to be princes and princesses.

You remembered Marcella talking about how the youngest Stark girl ran out of the stitching session Septa Mordane had held for the girls of Winterfell. How she found Arya to be very unladylike.

But you had laughed, as you handed her a cup of wine. You had brushed it off as you continued speaking with the sister you still had so much love for, even years later.

You could remember Tommen sparing with Robb, Brann and Jon, Theon joining in every once in awhile while Royce stood watch to help the boys. You had cheered him on, telling him to keep a straight face and maintain eye contact with who he was challenging.

You weren’t fifteen anymore. Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella were dead. Most of your family was. You didn’t have your mother by your side anymore. All you were now… Well, you and Jon were on the same page now. Both born out of wedlock

* * *

“You used to be bigger.” A smile made it’s way to your cheeks. That voice. Her once higher pitched voice that had been uncertain at times, now determined and smooth.

You turned your head to see the Stark girl. Her hair pulled back in a similar fashion to Jon’s.

You had been on your way to the maester’s quarters when she had begun speaking. And Gods were you glad she did.

“I was pregnant, and you used to be skinner.” You responded.

But the smile still spread across her face as she walked over to meet you on the deck. “To think I would ever trust a Lannister.”

You laughed looking off the deck to the snow covered hills before back to her. “I’m technically a Waters. A bastard born in Crownlands. But then again, I was raised Baratheon… Married into Tyrell.”

“To some, you’re an honorary Stark, after all, you carried a child with northern blood. You protected us. Sansa and I”

You smiled down at the girl, pulling her into a hug. “Gods I missed you.”

She laughed, wrapping her arms around your torso, “I missed you too Lady Y/N, Waters, Baratheon, Lannister, Tyrell, Stark.” Arya rambled

It was your turn to laugh “A lengthy name” You responded

“Y/N of the houses Waters, Baratheon, Lannister, Tyrell and Stark, Queen of the Andals and the first men and all of that.” She added.

“Now that, is a long title, it might even battle Daenery’s titles.” You joked pulling away from the hug.

“You should shorten it. I like Y/N Stark.”

“I’m not a Stark.” You reminded.

“Funny, Jon used to say the same thing, but he is a Stark. And to everyone, you’re the queen. And to everyone, you might as well be married into the family.”

“Y/n Stark… Has a nice ring to it.” You joked

“Stark goes with anything. Except for Lannister gold.” She said gesturing to the hilt of your sword, that was in it’s sheath and tightly secured to your hip.

Smiling you pulled it out of it’s sheath, resting it in the palm of your glove covered hands and handing it to the younger girl.

“Valyrian steel. You and Jon both.” She said looking it over “You ever use it?” She asked before handing it back to you.

“Plenty.”

“What about that little toothpick that is your sword?”

“Plenty.”

You smiled at her before nodding

“Would you like to meet your niece?”


	20. Chapter Twenty

“Lucia, I have someone for you to meet.” You stated opening the door to Lucia’s room. Her back facing the door as she stared outside, standing on a chair to be tall enough. Her hair was done up, no doubt by Sansa who has stopped by recently to check on her niece.

Lucia turned her head to see you with Arya. She stepped down from the chair, sitting down on the wood seat.

Her eyes had gone slightly wide as she stared at Arya suspiciously “Hello.” She greeted nervously.

“She’s shy.” You said to Arya. But she didn’t even seem to notice you speaking to here as she walked over to Lucia, standing in front of her, eyeing her up and down with a small smile that almost seemed smug.

“You’re mother… She’s very brave… Did you know that?”

Lucia shook her head curiously

“When I was younger, a long time ago, when she was pregnant with you, she protected me. Abandoned everything she knew to get me out of a sticky situation. That’s very brave. She dropped everything in an instant to protect a child she barley knew”

“It would’ve been the right thing.”

Arya nodded, grabbing one of the chairs and sitting it down askew from Lucia’s as if she was about to tell her a fairytale, like your mother always did when you were getting ready to sleep.

“The rest of her family wouldn’t have done what she did.-“

“Not even grandmother?” Lucia asked looking to you in concern. You shook your head in response, no words.

“She was brave, she could’ve died trying. She ran away from her brother, an evil king…”

You smiled at the two of them, leaving the room, closing the heavy wooden door behind you, leaving Arya to her storytelling of what she found to be brave of you, brave things that were really just impulse decisions of a hormonal pregnant teenage girl.

* * *

“Thank you Maester Wolkan.”

“You’re welcome, Your Grace. Thank you for coming to me for your-“

“Just call them… symptoms.” You said leaving his quarters, going to the deck only to have the brave lion Arya seemed so fond of suddenly turn into a mouse as you jumped back startled by one of the dragons flying by the deck.

But once it had flown by you had registered the cloak that drug behind of the person riding the dragon. Jon.

Smiling you watched as Jon flew off on the back of the dragon, Daenerys on her favored dragon shortly behind.

Once they had both flown out of sight you saw Tyrion, Varys and Davos all standing close to the parapet. A knowing smile on all of their faces. One you found very unsettling. One part of you wanted to ignore it. But the better, wiser part of you knew you had to ask. But either way you walked past them, ignoring whatever it was they were smiling over.

“Bran? What are doing?” You asked, the youngest stark child, or the only surviving youngest one. He was just sitting there in his chair, facing a small set of stables

“Waiting for an old friend.” Is what he responded with just looking forward. Aimlessly.

Your mouth was agape in confusion and your brows tightly knitted together as you stared at the young boy. But he wasn’t young. He was only seventeen.

“Who… Is this old friend?” You questioned, partly out of curiosity and partly because he was freaking you out a bit.

“Your father.”

A laugh came from your throat, a hearty one as well. “The day Jaime Lannister comes through the gates of WInterfell once again is the day I officially resign, and call myself Y/N Waters on all official documents.” You laughed walking away from his chosen post to wait for whoever it really was he was waiting for.

You were sure of it. No one in your family excepted you as family. You were sure Cersei had disowned you when she found out you killed Joffrey. Jaime more than likely did the same. And Tyrion… Well… he hadn’t spoken a word to you since King’s Landing. Preferring to ignore you for having let him go through the unjust trial. You were sure he blamed you for Oberyn’s death. You blamed yourself too.

You had excepted it the moment Cersei had stopped you. The look you saw on your father’s face. You couldn’t tell if it had been disappointment, or loathing on his face. Yet all you could remember from your childhood was wanting Robert to love you more than he truly did. You knew he didn’t love Joffrey like he should have, but the new gods knew. They knew that Robert had loved Joffrey more than you or Myrcella.

The only parental love you ever got was from your mother. She had showered you in it. Having new dresses made for you frequently, having new dolls given to you and Myrcella both, very often.

Unknowingly, you had gotten so much fatherly love from Jaime as well.

* * *

“C’mon, Y/N!”

Your arm was tired, practically numb from the weight of the sparring sword you had been practicing with for hours now.

“Ow!” You yelped as the cold medal of Joffrey’s own sparring sword came into contact with the sensitive flesh that was the back of your arm. The light material of your dress not covering your arms.

“Joffrey that’s not fair!” You screamed out as he went to swing at you again, your legs carrying you away from him “Uncle make him stop!” You screamed once more as Joffrey chased you

“You have to fight back!” Is all he had said back to you

You were on the verge of tears, Joffrey had shoved and pushed you plenty, but this was the first time he had ever been handed a sparing sword while you were around.

“Fight back Y/N!” Joffrey mimicked.

A surge of anger had washed over you, your tired arm swung the sword, hitting Joffrey in the stomach.

He stumbled back, gripping at the red and gold fabric that rested against the skin of his stomach. He was in shock that you had retaliated. You had never spoken back to him, never hit him back either. Always too afraid because he was the crowned prince. Even if he was your brother.

Eventually however, while you were frozen in place, he recovered, and looked at you like an angered coyote would if you stepped near it’s children.

“Why you insolent little-“

He went to swing the sword at you like he had before. But you brought your own to block him.

When the dulled edge of his sword came across the flat edge of your own you both looked at each other in shock. Him, because you had gained the confidence to go against him unlike before. You, well. It was because you had never been able to block an attack before.

He huffed, throwing down the sword to the stone and stomping away with mutterings of how he would tell mother of what you did.

But, when you looked up to your uncle, all you could see was the proud smile on his face as he knelt to the ground and held his arms out.

A huge smile spread across your cheeks as you dropped the sparing sword, running into his large arms. Your smaller, skinner arms wrapping around his neck.

“I did it, Uncle Jaime!” You exclaimed happily as he picked you up. Holding you very tight in his arms, a proud uncle.

“I saw that! I am so proud of you sweet heart! What did you tell you?”

“That I’d get better at it?”

“Yes!” He smiled, going to the sparing swords that were abandoned on the ground and beginning to walk to the inside of the red keep. And at the time, you didn’t know it, but he wasn’t a proud uncle. He was a beyond proud father, who had watched you struggle with trying to learn. Your weak arms barley able to pick up the sparing sword when he had first handed it to you. He saw himself in you. A small, blonde haired and emerald green eyes child who had inherited his love for sword fighting.

He knew your mother hated it, but she knew you loved it. So she had allowed you to learn, up until you were fifteen. Up until everything went down the drain. Back when everyone you knew and loved was still alive.

* * *

“Jon?”

The door had closed suddenly when he had walked in, almost like a frustrated and confused slam. Much like the time he slammed the door when he came into your room before.

He looked around angrily before he marched his way over to you “Jon what goin-“ You were cut off by the shock of his large hand going to the back of your head and roughly pulling you in for a kiss. The kiss was frustrated, and heated. His arms were around your waist in seconds, lifting you up and pressing you against the cold stone that not even the hot springs underneath the castle could warm in such an already cold winter.

Your legs wrapped around his hips, holding him close to you as you chased after the kiss when he pulled away.

He stared at you, out of breath as your hands rested on his chest. You cupped his cheek, as he leaned back in, only an inch or two from your face, stopping. Hesitant.

You only smiled, resting your forehead against his.

“Where’s Luci?” He asked

“In bed. She wanted Arya to put her to sleep.”

“Arya?”

You nodded.

Lucia had insisted on being put to bed by Arya, loving the way she told stories. Stories that you were sure were true.

“We’re alone?” He asked

“Completely.” You mumbled, pulling him in for yet another kiss.

He laid you down on the bed, the furs soft against the back of your neck and your hands when he had practically dropped you onto the mattress.

He had already taken off his coat, breast plate and the leather Stark armor. His finger fumbling with the ties of his wool shirt. But eventually he got it off, his bare chest on display as he crawled over you on the bed, his arms trapping your head between them.

“That’s a pretty dress” He said, almost as if he just realized that you were wearing it. “Gold, it’s your color.” He added awkwardly.”

You laughed slightly as you undid the Botton on the inside of your collar as he untied the small corset belt, throwing it across the room.

He helped you out of all of clothing, the heavy wool dress, the two petticoats you had layered underneath, and the leather breeches. Your boots having already been ditched by the door the moment you had let yourself into his quarters.

His hands rested on your hips, caressing the stretch marks that had been left there. “Don’t.” You breathed out as he leaned down to your neck, kissing from your shoulder to your collarbone.

“Why? They’re just marks.” He responded.

Rolling your eyes you reached between your chests, undoing the ties of your corset, throwing it across the room once you had it off.

* * *

You had spent hours in bed with him. Every hour full of bliss. He made you forget of everything wrong. Of the war soon to be at your door step.

“What happened, Jon?” You questioned. Your head on his chest that would rise and fall at a peaceful pace. His heartbeat still erratic.

“Ned Stark isn’t my father.”

You had almost passed out from how quickly you had sat up, all the blood training from where it was calmly resting.

“What?”


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

You stared at Jon, as if he had just said that he made the white walkers up. But he hadn’t. No, this was much, much worse.

“Lyanna Stark and Rheagar Targaryen are my parents.”

You laughed, trying to find the joke in it all. It had to be fake. It had to be him messing with her. Because if he wasn’t… Then your family was the reason most of his was dead.

“Jon, this isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

Your smile faded. Your father killed his grandfather. The man who raised you killed his father. Your grandfather had his brother and- no. His cousin Robb and his aunt Catelyn killed. Your grandfather had betrayed the mad king. Your father killed him for the greater good.

“You don’t look like a Targaryen.” You mumbled. But it all made sense. How else could Lucia be able to touch fire? How was she so immune to being burned. Not even the hot weather in Essos had bothered her. She never dropped a bead of sweat. Even after hours in sun, in the gardens of the palace of Meerene, her pale skin never turned red and never burned.

You stepped out from the bed, your feet coming in contact with the cold stone, walking to the pile of clothes that had formed throughout the room.

“Y/N, you and I both know that not all Targaryens had silver hair or purple eyes.”

“Daenerys is your aunt.” You breathed out as you picked up your corset, wrapping it around your body, and beginning to lace it back up.

You had zoned everything out. As if you were under water in a tub. You could tell he was talking but it was so muffled. You could hear your heartbeat.

He should hate you. For everything your family had ever done. For Gregor Clegane killing his half siblings on the order of Tywin.

You pulled the leather breaches up, realizing you had put on your clothing out of order. Huffing, you undid the bottom laces of the corset again pulling the breeches under it and securing it by lacing the corset back to it’s original placement. Pulling the petticoats over the corset, letting them rest on your waist.

“Y/N?”

You snapped out of the trance you were in when you felt his hand on your bare shoulder. Looking up at him, you felt sick.

You looked down to the ground. Feeling the churning in your stomach. Gods was this what you hated the most.

“I’m fine.” You forced out.

“No, you’re not.”

“You should hate me. After everything the Lannisters have done to your family. After killing your grandfather and your brother and sister.” You said almost sobbing. The tears making their way to your cheeks.

“That wasn’t you. That wasn’t your doing. You weren’t even alive.” He said in a soothing manner, pulling you into his chest, “Why are you crying, love?” He asked, concerned.

You shook your head, pulling away and sitting in one of the wooden chairs that sat by the fireplace.

A hand subconsciously went to your stomach. You never liked crying. Gods did you always hate it. The feeling of the snot in your nose, the hot tears that always built its way up until they fell onto your cheeks and down your chin until they fell into your lap.

“Love, you have to tell me why you’re crying.” Jon pleaded with you, kneeling in front of you, taking your spare hand.

“It makes sense. Lucia-“

“What about Lucia?” The worry in his voice had escalated into pure horror, as if something horrible had once happened to her that he didn’t know about

“She can touch fire, without being burned. On her first name day, she put her hand in the fireplace in my chambers, and when I went to pull her out, I was burned, but she wasn’t. Her skin was spotless, but I still have the scar on my hand.” You said, turning your hand over for him to see the discolored mark of your knuckles.

“I never questioned why she could. I didn’t care. I was scared if I asked Grand Maester Pycell how she could he would tell Joffrey. And Joffrey was fishing for any reason to hurt her. Any way to get her out of the red keep. He hated her.” You sobbed.

Jon rested his head against your knee, processing it. He knew any sort of flame hurt his own skin. But he also knew, that not every Targaryen was immune to the fire. It had to have skipped him and gone to her.

“You’re the true heir to the Iron Throne.” You said, breaking the silence. “That’s a treasonous thing to say.” He responded.

“It’s the truth. Daenerys is no queen. You’ve been a king since the day you were born.”

“That makes Lucia the bastard of a king.”

“You’re a king. I will never call you a Targaryen, I will however, recognize the blood.”

“My true name is Aegon Targaryen, sixth of his name.”

“No it’s not.” You laughed through the tears, sniffling a bit as he looked up at you “I’m serious.” He responded

“Wouldn’t your last name be… I don’t know wherever Lyanna had you? Sand? She died in Dorne didn’t she?”

“She and Rheagar loved each other. He annulled his marriage to Elia Martell, and married Lyanna.”

“I will never under any circumstances call you Aegon Targaryen. You must always remember, that you have just as much Stark blood as you always thought. You can always choose. Targaryen or Stark. I chose. I chose Lannister over Baratheon. I knew Baratheon was a name everyone put to me. But I have always been a Lannister. Since the day I born. You have always been a Stark. You were raised here. In Winterfell, maybe a bastard, but… To everyone, you’re a Stark. Just as much as Sansa or Arya.”

Jon smiled up at you sadly “I always thought Ned Stark was the most honorable man alive.”

“He was. He honored your sister by keeping you alive. By taking care of you. Keeping your true identity a secret. When your mother was taken by Rheagar, Robert wanted nothing more but to kill every Targaryen alive.”

It clicked yet again. It finally registered why Ned was so fiercely protective of you as if you were his own kin, when you had told him that you were carrying Jon’s child. He knew that the child was a Targaryen bastard. Lucia was not only his kin, but Lyanna’s. And he had kept her son alive.

“To me, You are Jon Stark, first of his name, king of the Andals, and the First Men. Lord of the seven kingdoms and all that. You can be the founder of a whole dynasty. With, Stark and Targaryen blood.”

“And Lannister.” He joked. “I don’t know what I’ll do. The Night King had to be taken out first.”

“You’ll be ruling over nothing if we don’t.”

“We?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be ‘we’?”

He looked at you knowingly. “You’re keeping something from me. Something big, I can feel it.”

“I am.” You smiled. The tears having dried out and the runny nose having not stopped yet. But this was something horrible. Something horribly happy for you.

“I’m with child.”

He was visibly taken of guard when you said that. Having straightened his back, his hands that had peacefully rested on your knees now had a grip to keep himself balanced.

“How do yo-“

“I got a feeling. When my blood didn’t come. With Lucia I didn’t even notice my missing blood. Only the sickness two months later. But Jon, you have to promise me, If I die-“

“Don’t talk like that!” He scolded.

You shook your head remembering what Maester Pycell had told you after Lucia had been born. If you were to have another child, the likely hood of the birth killing you was high. The pregnancy itself was likely to kill you.

“If I die, You have to take care of them. Lucia and this baby. They will have nothing but each other and you. Promise me?”

He looked at you, tears starting to well up in his own eyes as he looked down to the wool petticoat he was holding onto. The red striking against his pale hand. But he nodded, “I promise.”

“This war will not be easy.”


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

“Bran? What are you doing?” You questioned, stepping up to the younger boy as men, women and children came into Winterfell for safety. The men preparing for the battle yet to come.

When you had gone to Jon’s room the night before Bran was in the same place. Sitting right where he was. Concern had bubbled up at seeing the younger boy be in the same place for over twelve hours.

“He’s here.” He stated in a mono tone voice. Staring straight ahead. You would have thought he hadn’t even noticed your presence if he hadn’t responded.

  
Your brows knitted together so tightly that it hurt. You looked up, seeing a horse come to a stop at the small set of stables. A man atop of it. His clothes covering any visible characteristic that could give his identity away.

But when he stepped down from his horse and removed his hood, you recognized him instantly.

His hair that was once golden now dusty and littered with grey hair. His facial hair practically only grey.

When he turned his head and spotted Bran, his face fell. As did yours. Neither of you were hard to miss. Bran in his wheelchair and you being the only one with such bright golden hair and a golden dress. But you found it funny. How your own father, noticed a Stark boy he never really even spoke to before his own daughter. His last living child.

But that could just be the second child in you speaking. Joffrey had always gotten more love because he was the oldest, the heir to the throne. And all you were was Robert’s responsibility. Someone he’d have to make a dowery for. Myrcella as well. And then Tommen. The second heir.

But all of that was washed away when his gaze went to you. Eyes matching your own locked with yours. A small, but noticeable smile greeted his face. And next thing you knew you were running to him, and the very next second, your arms were around his neck and he had lifted you up so your head was at his shoulder.

The tears had slipped past your tear ducts and fell down your cheeks. “You should hate me.” You sobbed quietly.

“I could never.” Was all he said as he held you. Trying to sooth your crying. But it wouldn’t work. Because you had thought everyone in your family hated you. But your father, here he was. Holding you tight and telling you none of it was your fault. Even if you felt the very opposite.

* * *

“When I was a child, my brother would tell me a bedtime story, about the man who murdered our father. Who stabbed him in the back and cut his throat. Who sat down on the Iron Throne and watched poured onto the floor. He told me other stories as well. About all the things we would do to that man… Once we took back the Seven Kingdoms and had him in our grasp. Your sister pledged to send her army north.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed quietly. Your seat next to Jon being the only thing keeping you from hitting her. Knowing Jon would hold you back and that Sansa would try to push Daenerys away from you.

“I don’t see an army. I see one man, with one hand. It appears your sister lied to me”

“Get fucked.” You laughed.

“Excuse me?” Daenerys asked in a booming voice. Clearly angry with how you spoke to her. You only continued to laugh as Jon placed a warning hand on your arm. You knew it wasn’t wise to speak to her like this, but gods did it feel amazing.

“I told all. My mother would never send the Lannister army north. Not to fight with the woman who took many of her soldiers and burned two of them alive.”

“They were being insolent.”

“They being loyal. The only soldiers there who were being loyal. The others were to afraid for their lives to be loyal.” You said. Staring ahead as Daenerys had her eyes on you.

“If what Y/N has told you is true. If she has told you all Cersei wasn’t going to send the Lannister troops… Then she was right. She had Euron Greyjoy’s fleet and 20,000 fresh troops. The Golden Company from Essos, bought and paid for.”

“Oh? Does she have elephants? I heard The Golden Company has elephants. Will they paint them red and gold for her house as well? I’d love to see red and gold elephants.”

The sarcasm was dripping from your voice like beer from a man’s beard right before the Blackwater.

Your father only shrugged, looking slightly concerned when you brought up painting them red and gold.

He went on speaking again “Even if we defeat the dead, She’ll have more than enough to destroy the survivors.”

“We?”

You had to hold your tongue when Jon gave your arm a gentle squeeze, telling you not to fight back. Maybe this child was going to be more like a Lannister than a Stark. After all, when you were pregnant with Lucia you would have protected anyone you thought needed protecting, but you would have preferred peacefulness. Since you had fallen pregnant with this child it was if you were trying to start a fight with anyone and everyone.

“I promised to fight for the living. I intend to keep that promise.” A smile spread across your face as Jaime said that. Because that was three out of the four Lannisters left, who were fighting for the living.

“Your Grave, I know my brother-“

“Like you knew your sister?”

“I knew her and no one listened to me.” You said in a sing song voice. Or maybe this child would just have a sick sense of humor.

Tyrion gave you a look that told you to shut up. So you did, but it probably wouldn’t be for long.

“He came here alone, knowing full well how he’d be received. Why would he do that if he weren’t telling the truth?”

“Perhaps he trusts his little brother and baby girl to defend him, right up to the moment he slits my throat.”

You rolled your eyes. Jaime wouldn’t do that. Your father wouldn’t do that. Unless Daenerys was threatening you. After all, the lion’s pride was always protecting each other.

“You’re right we can’t trust him. He attacked my father in the streets. He tried to destroy my house and my family, the same as he did yours.”

“Do you want me to apologize? I won’t. We were at war. Everything I did, I did for my house and my family. Including her” Your father pointed to you “I’d do it all again.”

“The things we do for love.” Bran said in the thick of what you supposed was tension. Lucia hadn’t messed with your head like this child was.

Your father looked at Bran with widened eyes, a look of fear.

Why was he scared?

“Why have you abandoned your house and family?

You stood from your seat. Jon’s grip on your hand that had tried to keep you grounded had failed. You walked around the table and to your father. Standing by his side. Your right hand grabbing onto his left and your left hand holding onto his inner elbow. Something you had done whenever he escorted you around King’s Landing. Even if you were only ever really allowed near the Nobel family homes.

Jaime looked down at you, seeing your intense glare at the dragon queen as you held onto his arm.

“Because. This goes beyond loyalty.”

You saw him turn to face someone behind him. Someone who was sitting down at the bench to your left.

“This is about survival.” He said turning back to face Daenerys.

A few seconds of nothing but the fire crackling behind Jon, Sansa and Daenerys was heard, but after those few seconds a chair was heard scrapping at the stone flooring of the hall.

Turning your head you saw Brienne standing and coming around her own table.

“You don’t know me well, My Lady.”

“It’s ‘Your Grace’” Daenerys corrected.

You were sure that you were making a face much like your mother’s. One that was evident of a woman about to throw somebody into the fire behind Daenerys.

“Your Grace.” Brienne repeated as she came next to you. “But I know Ser Jaime. He is a man of honor. I was his captor once. But when we were both taken prisoner and the men holding us tried to force themselves on me, Ser Jaime defended me. And lost his hand because of it. Without him, my lady, you would not be alive.” Brienne said, giving her attention to the auburn Stark girl.

“He armed me, armored me, and sent me to find you and bring you home. Because he’d sworn an oath to your mother.”

“I knew Lady Catelyn for only a short time, but she was always kind to me, so was Lord Stark. He promised to keep me safe when I told him that I was carrying Jon’s child. When I was fifteen. Ned… He didn’t like my father. But I know if he were still around, he would let my father stay. unharmed. To fight this war.” You said, somehow in your normal fashion of speaking despite the subtle changes in demeanor that had been plaguing you lately.

“You both vouch for him?”

“I do.” Both of you said at the same time. Giving Jaime’s hand a soft squeeze of reassurance, something he had always done to you for reassurance, even when you were small.

He squeezed your hand back.

“You would fight beside him?”

“I would.” Brienne said firmly.

The Sansa’s gaze went to you.

“I may be biased, but yes. I would.”


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

You had begun to accept it. Death. You knew that within the next few days you’d be dead. That you’d never see Lucia grow into a strong young woman. That you’d never have the chance to give birth to this child. Though you supposed dying on the battle field was better than in your birthing bed. Something you hadn’t had the first time around. Just a bed.

Targaryen births were known for being very violent. Maybe that was why Lucia’s birth had brought so much blood.

Lately every time you closed your eyes you could see a child, with golden hair like your own, and emerald eyes, like your own. But pale skin. Just like Jon.

Maybe it was just your mind playing with you. You knew that even if you did live past this battle, you’d die giving birth. It seemed to run in the family.

You and Jon had agreed, it was best if only the two of you knew. About the baby. It would cause less heartache if you were to fall in battle.

He tried to fight you, he tried to convince you to stay within Winterfell. To stay in the crypts with Lucia and Gilly. That the two of you would get along. But you refused. You told him that you carried a Valyrian steel sword. That you had to fight. So he gave you your own regiment.

Daenerys thought it best if they were made up of some of the Lannister men she had taken from the reach. She thought they would listen to your command. And they did. Always listening to you when you told them to spar.

They would wear their Lannister armor into battle. As would you. Armor that had been fitted for you. That formed your body perfectly. It reminded you of the armor your brother had worn to the Blackwater. His breast plate had the lions on it, as did yours. But instead of the plain black like he had, yours was red. Like the plate your grandfather had worn.

“They’re coming. We have dragonglass and Valyrian steel. But there are too many of them. Far to many. Our enemy doesn’t tire. Doesn’t stop. Doesn’t feel. We can’t beat them in a straight fight.”

You stood between your father and Beric. Looking at the battle map. The stones painted with the sigils of the houses commanding the troops.

“So what can we do?” Jaime asked.

“The Night King made them all. They follow his command.”

“When we went beyond the wall, when I killed the one White Walker, all the others fell. If we kill him, we kill them all?”

Jon nodded “Getting to him maybe our best chance.”

“If that’s true, he’ll never expose himself.” Jaime said from beside you.

“Yes he will.”

You turned your head to see the youngest living Stark. Bran, in his wheelchair acting creepy by coming into the room as quietly as he had.

“He’ll come for me. He’s tried before, many times, with many Three-Eyes Ravens.”

“Why?” Samwell questioned. “What does he want?”

“An endless night. He wants to erase this world, and I am its memory.”

“That’s what death is isn’t it? Forgetting.”

You looked down at the map. Targaryen, Stark, Arryn, and Lannister. All would be on the trenches, and on the field. Weapons drawn. Some will fall and attack their comrades once they came back.

“Being forgotten. If we forget where we’ve been and what we’ve done, we’re not men anymore. Just animals. Your memories don’t come from books. Your stories aren’t just stories. If I wanted to erase the world of men, I’d start with you.” Sam stated, looking down at the boy. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew it was sincere.

“How will he find you?” Tyrion questioned

“His mark is on me.’ Bran pulled up his sleeve to show three red marks in the shape of long icy cold fingers that scarred him.

“He always knows where I am.”

“We’ll put you in the crypt, where it’s safest.”

“No. We need to lure him into the open before his army destroys us all. I’ll wait for him in the godswood.”

“You want us to use you as bait?” Sansa asked looking at Bran as if he were ludicrous.

“We’re not leaving you alone out there.” Arya added.

“He won’t be. I’ll stay with him.” Theon interjected. “With the Ironborn. I took this castle from you. Let me defend you now.”

Bran gave a silent nod.

“We’ll hold off the rest of them for as long as we can.”

“When the time comes, Her Davos and I will be on the walls, to give you the signal to light the trench.”

“Ser Davos is perfectly capable of waving a torch on his own. You’ll be in the crypt. Your Grace, I have fought before, I can do it again. Alongside the men and women risking their lives.” Tyrion reasoned

“There are thousands of them and only one of you. You can’t fight as well as they can, but you can think better than any of them. You’re here because of your mind. If we survive, I’ll need it.”

* * *

“You called for me?” You questioned, still looking at the stone floors as you picked at the trim of your sleeves. The great hall being the supposed place Daenerys wanted to see you. When you lifted your head, you saw everyone. Every northern lord and lady who had come to Winterfell for safety, Jon, Arya, everyone you knew in Winterfell. Standing in the great hall.

“What is this?” You questioned. “Lady Y/N. Please, come here.” Daenerys said gesturing for you to come stand in the center of the room in front of her.

Your brows were furrowed together in confusion as you took careful steps to stand in front of her.

“I would like to offer you something.” She began. Oh gods, where was this going? It couldn’t be anywhere good.

You nodded for her to keep speaking. Nervous, but not afraid. After all you’d seen in your life? She didn’t scare you. The only thing that scared you was the dead coming for Winterfell.

“I will offer it too you, if you bend the knee.”

You laughed, more of a long lasting chuckle. Was this what it was about? Trying to make the north see that she was the true queen? Even though the Lannister men here, had made it quite clear they disposed her and wanted you as queen. Maybe this was her way to make them see you trusted her. When you didn’t.

“Bit of an awkward time to ask for my fealty. After all, we all have bigger things to worry about. Like the Night King.” You laughed.

But when you looked over her shoulder and saw Jon, him silently pleading with you to just do it.

But you couldn’t. You were Lady Tyrell of Highgarden. Married to Loras Tyrell for three years. You carried the Baratheon name. Your last words to your sister were the house sayings of Lannister and Baratheon.

But you had too. That look. His brows raised and his eyes slightly wider than usual. His lips in a slim line. Lucia resting on his shoulder as he held her.

Gods was this a hard decision. All processing in your mind. Trying to figure out what you next move would be. Like a game of chess. Tactics.

Your mother and grandfather had always been good at fooling people. Tywin was great at it, had it mastered before he married your grandmother. Cersei, she was clever, sometimes you wondered, if she had learned it from Tywin, and got better than him when she married Robert.

Tyrion was clever. Witty, intelligent. Knew how to talk his way out of a tricky situation. He had done it before. Trying to get the slaver to pay for both of you as well as Jorah.

Jaime, he was your father. He taught you how to fight like a high lord with an ancient sword.

Olenna. You had always liked her. She analyzed everything.

Maybe, just maybe you had learned from them all. Maybe you could be like your mother? Just as manipulative when you needed to be. Maybe you could be just as clever as Tyrion. Even if he hated you now.

No. Joffrey. Maybe you had to be like Joffrey.

* * *

The black skirt of your dress was pulled up to your knees as you ran ahead of Sam, trying to get away from Joffrey. Your gold selves of your blouse were flittering behind you as your black boots with the brown leather trim stomped on the polished stone.

“Sam! Let’s go!” You yelled as you ran past the throne. Your Father and Mother talking with Randall Tarly. Even at six you were a fast runner. Even when Sam had been given a five minute head start because Joffrey had been tormenting him, an act of ‘pity’ because you asked for the Tarly children to play with you and your siblings.

“I can’t.” He heaved, out of breath.

“Yes you can!” You said, running back to him as he placed his hands on his knees. You could hear Dickon running with Myrcella, who held Tommen’s hand as he struggled to keep up. His shorter legs struggling while the rest of you had longer legs.

“Where’s Talla?” You asked as they came to the center of the thrones room where you and Sam were.

“Joffrey got her.” Myrcella responded

You nodded.

You hated this game. You always hated it when Joffrey decided to play this one. He always got angry when you were never found, or you had outrun him.

He had tagged Talla, which meant she was out.

The sound of Joffrey’s heavier boots came through the echoing staircase from the doorway behind the throne.

“Go!” You shouted to them, grabbing Sam’s hand when you started to run. Now only holding your skirt up with one hand.

Myrcella had begun jogging shortly behind. Tommen dragging behind, going as fast as a three year old could. You stopped by one of the pillars. Looking up at the carvings of leaves that stuck out a few inches from them. You heard Joffrey get to the throne. And so you acted climbing up the pillar, as carefully as you could.

Your finger tips turned red from the pressure you put on them as you climbed as high as you could.

They all looked at you, as if you had lost your mind when you tried to get as high as you could.

“Not fiar!” Tommen cried looking up at you and pointing his small, chubby hand at you.

That was when Joffrey had reached the base of the pillar. “Come down here!” He shouted. It caught your mother’s attention as well as your father’s and Randalls. Even your uncle Jaime’s as he walked in with the young Tarly girl next to him.

When Your mother and Uncle saw you they ran to the base of the pillar. “Y/N! Little lion, come down here! You could hurt yourself!”

Your father stomped his way over as well. You hadn’t realized how high you had gone until you looked down. Your family and the Tarlys looked so small. Not even the size of your hand. But it didn’t scare you. It only made your hands sweat.

“Y/N! You’re worrying your mother.” Jaime said, also trying to remain calm as he looked up at you.

None of them realized you could climb. You had never been around trees before. But then again, you were the child who had found her way on the top of a high set bed when she was two without any help, and no step ladder.

They pleaded with you, begging and demanding that you come down from your spot. But you were stubborn. And being six, were still in play mode. Thinking Joffrey would get you if you came down.

“My little lion, please! Please come down, You can have lemon cakes, pie, anything! Just please come down!”

You looked down at your mother. Tears were in her eyes. She was standing on the base of the pillar, hands together like she was praying.

She was scared that you would fall. Scared that one of them couldn’t catch you and you’d get hurt. And from how high up you were, you knew you’d be seriously hurt.

“Joffrey?” You asked

“What?” He snapped, venom laced in his voice. “Do you promise not too tag me when I come down?” You questioned

His brows came down in frustration, having obviously wanted to tag you. But your father leaned down to Joffrey and said something to him, your mother having looked to Joffrey. “Say you won’t tag your sister.” She pleaded.

He rested both his hands behind his back as he looked down at the stone, before back up at you. “I promise.” You nodded and started climbing down from your spot. But when you were almost down when you placed your foot down on one of the stone leaves, your skirt had somehow gotten between them and your foot slipped.

You let out a high pitched screech as you went falling. Another scream came from your mother, but one moment you were in the air and the next you landed roughly in your uncle’s arms. Who had caught you in time.

You were passed to your mother who held you tightly. “Are you alright?” She questioned, pulled away and looking you over. “I’m fine.”

“Never do that again!” She scolded

You nodded as she set you down on the ground. “I won’t… Can I have pie later?”

She nodded. “I’ll have some made. Go, play.” She said hesitantly as she stepped away. Robert looked at you as well. Randall giving you a small nod and smile After all, you were the princess, and just from being born you commanded respect, just like your brothers and sister.

But when you went to take a step to your brother and sister, who were standing side by side with Dickon and Talla who had rejoined them, you felt Joffrey’s fist collide with your shoulder “You’re it!”

“Ow! You promised!” You yelled.

“He brought his other hand from behind his back to show his index and middle finger wrapped around each other.

“All promises are void when you do this!”

* * *

You looked up at Daenerys. Her lavender eyes meeting your own Emerald green. It was practically a mental battle between the two of you. Two sets of eyes against each other.

But you broke your poker face, a smug smile on your face as you rested your right hand behind your back, twisting your index and middle finger together. You went down on one knee and looked up at her. Her triumphant smirk taking up her entire face as she turned to Jon. She took something from him and cam back in front of you.

You had looked down when she turned away from you.

“How does it go See Jorah?” She questioned, looking to the Mormont, as he stood next to his cousin, Lyanna.

He came forward and up to her, whispering whatever she needed to her.

“Thank you.”

You felt something heavy be placed on your shoulder. Your head lifted and looked to see what it was. You saw Jon’s sword. The white pommel behind her hand and the blade resting on your shoulder.

“In the name of the warrior, I charge you to be brave.” She lifted the blade and brought it to your other shoulder.

It was only then did you realize what she was doing. She was knighting you. Something you didn’t deserve. You weren’t a seasoned warrior. You had never fought in battle like your father, or Jorah.

“In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just.”

You were trying to process it. What could she possibly gain from doing this? All she was doing was giving you more power. Unless-

“In the name of the mother, I charge you defend the innocent.”

Unlesss she planed to- No she would only do that if… If she wanted to make the Lannister men believe she was the true queen.

“Arise, Y/N of Tyrell. A knight of the seven kingdoms, and a member of my Queen’s Guard.”

You looked at her. And stood.

This was her worst idea yet.

* * *

“You should be honored!” Jon argued

“Honored? Honored that a foreign queen knighted me and just said I was also now a member of her Queen’s Guard? Do you know why she did it!?”

Jon turned to you, “Because she thinks your strong.”

“She wants the Reach. She want the Westerlands. She wants the Crownlands. I am connected to all of them. I am a Lannister. My mother who is queen, is a Lannister and most don’t want her. Most of them in the Crownlands want me! If you are a king or queen you have those titles. You cannot keep the title or lord or lady of your house. Jaime claimed me as a daughter. That means I am the Lady of Casterly Rock! I married Loras Tyrell, his entire family is gone. I am the Lady of High Garden. I am Lady Paramount of the Reach! She wants allies!”

Jon sighed like he had been for the past twenty minutes that you had been arguing. “She’s not getting them.” You said.

Jon turned to you when you had turned to the window. Looking out at Winterfell as the worked to prepare for the battle soon to come.

“What do you mean?”

You looked to him. His figure standing next to the fireplace. His hand resting against the mantle.

“People are only as strong as their leaders. The Reach was weak, because they lost an entire family line. But the Lannisters were strong. They were strong because they sit on the throne. The North has always been stubborn. Because their leaders have always been that way. Because A Stark has always been their leader. I command the reach. I command the Westerlands with my father.”

“Y/N don’t do this. We already have enough enemies.”

“We? They aren’t my enemies. Are you and Daenerys ‘we’ now? Cause tru-“

“That’s not what I meant!” He cut you off.

You shook your head and looked away from Jon.

“She loves you, you know. You can see it in the way she looks at you.”


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

Everyone was off somewhere. Spending time with people before the battle. You sat in hall. Where three chairs were set for the the three Lannisters who sat in them.

Lucia was in your arms half awake. You refused to be apart with her until the battle started. You wanted to be as close to her as possible. You wanted to be able to remember every small detail about her that you could.

How she was so calm when she slept, never thrashing around in the bed. How sometimes at night she would sneak into the room you and Jon had been sleeping in on the ship. How she would climb up into the bed between you two. Her own blanket wrapped around her.

She loved flowers. Gods did she love to have them in a crown on her head or in her hair.

You always loved how she woke up in the morning. When her eyes would squeeze tightly even when already shut before she opened them for the first time of the day. She’d done that since the day she was born.

Tyrion quietly drank his wine. Your father looked at the fire that was illuminating the room. And you sat there contently. Lucia in your lap with her chin over your shoulder as you held her close.

Jon and you hadn’t spoken in hours.

* * *

“Why would she love me? Daenerys has more important things to do!”

You closed your eyes. All of a sudden, it felt like you were losing him. Like he would rather defend Daenerys than side with you. You never cared if he had a differing opinion of you. But this- This just felt like he was distancing himself from you.

“Answer me this. Why?”

Jon’s face went from defensive to confused, but then you decided to clear up what you meant.

“Why do you defend her? After all that her family did to yours? After-“

“She’s my family too!”

“You don’t know her!” You screamed, turning to face him, a fiery red flash came through your body. Your joints tensing in anger as your brows furrowed.

“She’s your aunt, Jon. Who you’ve only just met! You’ve known me for seven years!- Her father killed your grandfather! One of your uncles an-“

“You’re family has done more damage!”

You face fell and your heart dropped as you stared at him. He was angry with you. You’d never seen him angry with you.

You let out a fake, amused breath. “Have you always felt that way?”

He didn’t answer. Only looking to the ground. Almost like he was ashamed he had said it. But he didn’t look to be apologetic.

It was like everything that had changed you in the past seven years vanished. Like you were still the quiet girl from King’s Landing who hadn’t found the confidence to challenge anyone but her uncle or brother in a fight.

You had quickly seen yourself in this moment as a fifteen year old again. Hair done in a southern style, wearing a gold dress with black accents.

You could see tears swelling up in the corners of your eyes. And you could feel them going down your cheeks.

You had once been raised to be seen and not heard. That that’s what most ladies would do. Be quiet and only speak when spoken too. And only say what her father or husband had trained her to say.

And in this moment you could feel every ounce of pain you had felt, every inch of hatred, and every bucketful of tears you had cried in the past seven years come rushing back through you.

“Are you trying to play me?” You realized it. Oh how bad of an actor he was. “Have you lost all of your wits?” You demanded taking wide strides to him.

“Do you not remember who my mother is? Who schemed her way to everything she has now? I am the daughter of Cersei and Jaime of the house Lannister. I killed my brother with poison and I carry his sword on my waist. Is there anything you think I won’t do to protect my blood? Who put you up to this?”

He looked up from the stone floor to you. He would have lied if he said your emerald eyes didn’t scare him in that moment. How your pupils were so small that it was practically just a abyss of the gem like color with white surrounding it.

An angry green with an angry emotion behind it.

“How do y-”

“I know you, Jon Snow.”

* * *

“I wish father was here.”

You turned your head to look at your uncle. He wanted Tywin Lannister here? To watch as the world went to shit from north to south? To see most of his living descendants siding with his enemies?

Your father also looked to Tyrion in confusion.

“I would love to see the look on his face when he realizes his two sons and only living grandchild and great grand child are about to die defending Winterfell.”

You gave him a look. And if looks could kill. It would have killed him in seconds.

Jaime snorted in amusement. You didn’t find it funny. You would have. If he hadn’t brought your daughter into it. The little girl he knew you were so protective and loving over.

“That would be something to see.”

A moment of silence came over the four of you. The sound of crackling fire being the only thing heard in the room, along with the howling of the winter winds outside the windows.

“I remember the first time we were here, The first time I saw this hall. You were a golden lion. You were a black doe. I was a drunken whoremonger. It was all so simple.”

You remembered when Robb had hooked arms with you in this hall, introduced you to his uncle and made conversation with you. You remembered the look Joffrey had given Winterfell. He looked upon the north with boredom and distaste. While you looked upon it with wonder and excitement.

“It wasn’t so simple.” Your father responded, looking down at his own cup of wine. I was sleeping with my sister, she… What were you doing?”

You looked at your father. Your eyes matching his. “Sneaking around with Ned Stark’s Bastard?”

He laughed and nodded. “She was sneaking around with a bastard, and you had one friend in the world who was sleeping with his sister.”

You laughed slightly.

“I was speaking in relative terms.”

“Do you both miss it?”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t. You missed running through the godswood with Jon hot on your heels.

“I miss having three living siblings.”

They both looked at you. Puzzled as too why you would have said that.

“Didn’t you poison one of them? A poisoning I got blamed for?” Tyrion questioned.

You chuckled lowly before looking at the first covered window.

“Every night I see their faces. I can see my brother, clawing at his neck while my mother held him, crying and begging for it to stop. I see Tommen. I can see him every night. As I chase him down a hall when he was younger. And then all I can see is him. Jumping from a window because he lost his wife.”

It went quiet for a moment.

“What about Myrcella? What happened to my baby sister?”

Jaime looked at you, your eyes pleading with him. You were his last child. The survivor Cersei had told him so much about the day he came back to her after Myrcella.

He remembered Tyrion talking so many times about how, out all of the children, the crown should go to you. How you were more responsible than the others. He could see that now. How you wore the Lannister armor with so much pride it made his heart swell with how proud he was of you. How you had survived.

Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail, one he’d never seen your wear. And the scar on your cheek was near invisible from the lighting.

He could see the survivor in you. The strength that hadn’t been passed on to your brothers and sister. His and your mother’s strengths seemed to have only been passed onto you. Coursing through you like the blood in your veins.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

“You really think any of us are going to sleep tonight?”

You looked up at your father as he placed a chair down for Brienne and Podrick. The Tarth woman standing tall in the middle of the room looking at the chair set out for her cautiously.

“All right, but just a bit.”

Davos and Tormund joined you all, walking in through another entrance. “Tornado!” Tormund greeted.

“Hello, Tormund.” You said calmly.

“Well, what do we have here?” Davos asked

“Ser, Davos, come, join us.” Tyrion urged.

“No, none for me thanks. Came here for this.” He said pointing to the fireplace. He stood in front of it, back to the fire and hands out wide to capture the heat.

“I figured I would wait to die freezing my balls off out there or wait to die nice and warm in here.”

You smiled and nodded as Tormund came to stand next to you, But when you looked up he was giving Brienne a look. A look that made you uncomfortable despite it not being pointed to you.

“It could be our last night in this world, you know.” This interaction was already kind of weird, as your father seemed to be questioning how you knew the wildling, while watching the exchange between him and Brienne

“Yes, well, I’m glad you’re here.” Tormund gave the tall woman a smile, which sent Brienne stammering for her stance on what to say “Here fighting with us. Glad you survived Eastwatch.”

“So that’s were you know him from.” Jaime whispered to you. You snorted in amusment. Tormund was very strange but you found yourself warming up to him.

“Would you like a drink?” Tyrion offered, holding up the large container that the red wine rested in

“Brought my own.” He said raising up the cup he had that was shaped like a tusk. Like the ones your mother had described from the stories she read you.

Tormund then looked to Jaime suspiciously “They call you ‘King Killer’.”

You pursed your lips in contemplation. You were sure it was ‘King Slayer.’ After all. You had heard it from many men and women in your life who had distaste for your father after what he did to the Targaryen king.

Your father seemed just as confused as you were. “I’m sure someone does.”

“They call me ‘Giantsbane.’”

You nodded slightly “That is what I’ve heard.” You said. He gave you a kind, fond smile, before he turned back to your father “Want to know why?”

No one answered, you all just sat in quiet for a moment, Confused.

Tormund grabbed a chair from the corner, dragging it next to Brienne and looking straight at your father.

“I killed a giant when I was ten. Then I climbed right into bed with his wife.”

Your brows came down so far it hurt your forehead and eyelids. Almost disgusted with what you were about to hear more of as he went on.

“When she woke up, you know what she did? Suckled me at her teat for three months. Thought I was her baby. That’s how I got so strong. Giant’s milk.”

He held up his tankard and began taking large gulps from it while your mouth was agape from trying to process the information.

When the milk from his tankard began to pill down his beard and onto his clothes was when you decided to take your leave.

You smiled awkwardly before you stood from your own chair. “I’m going to try and sleep. Goodnight.”

That was when Tormund parted from his tankard for one second to say “Goodnight Tornado, see you on the field”

“We’ll see.”

With that, you set Lucia down on the stone floor and stood, handing the cup of wine you hadn’t had any of to your father before you picked Lucia back up and began walking out of the hall. The cold was encasing. The sight of the dummy set up where it had been before all those years ago.

All you gave it was a quick glance before you carried Lucia back to her room.

The tears welled up in your eyes when you set her down and she stumbled over to the bed and pulled herself up and into the warmth.

You remembered when you held her for the first time. How small she used to be. So helpless and completely reliant on you for everything. To keep her safe and warm. To keep her fed and clothed. But now, she could seek out warmth and feed herself. She could dress herself. But she couldn’t keep herself safe.

You walked over to her, pulling the fur blanket over her small frame. Her eyes open and looking at you.

“Papa said he left something for you.”

You raised your brows in curiosity and brushed back some of her curls. “Oh?”

“On the windowsill.”

You smiled and looked up to the window to see a bundle of cloth. You walked to the window, picking up the cloth. It had been wrapped around something. You picked at the end of the cloth unraveling it only to have a gold antler fall into your hand.

A smile spread across your lips as you looked at the scratched up pendant. The chain was broken and the pendant worn out. The other half broken off. But when you looked at it you realized it was his way of saying sorry.

He always had a strange way of communicating with you.

You were surprised he still had it. All these years later. You told him it was for him to remember you. But now, it no longer belonged to you. It belonged to the ones you loved.

You tugged the pendant that was around your neck out from under your armor and held it for a moment before you took it off.

You put the antler on the chain of the lion pendant and walked to Lucia again and looked down at her as she stared up at you blankly.

“I have something for you.”

She sat up in the bed and crossed her legs under the blankets. You sat on the edge of the bed. Bringing the necklace up to her neck and hooked it together behind her neck.

It hung loosely down on her upper chest.

“A necklace?”

You nodded with a small smile. “Take good care of it. It’s the first one you’ve ever gotten. And it’s older than you. There a three other lion pendants in the world. And only one of the antler.

She nodded happily as she looked at the pendants. “I love them!” She exclaimed happily.

“Good, I’m glad. You know I love you right?”

Lucia looked up at you and nodded. “I know mama.” She said wiggling herself over to you so her head was in your lap. “I love you too.” She added.

You smiled and stroked her hair. You didn’t know how long you had been there. With Lucia in your lap and a what used to Sansa’s lion pendant that she had abandoned wearing years ago. That was when Lucia had begun to sing. Something you had never taught her. A song you had never heard.

“Her hair glows bright in the firelight, Like burning gold freshly forged. She’s the golden lion from the south. She comes from riches and gold. She’s the bravest of her pride.

The lion came north, with a golden sword at her hip, she leads her men into the snow, She’ll dance in the snow with the dead. She’ll be the victor of the living. The crimson of blood and fear on her shoulders, She’d protect her people with her life. She’d give up riches and gold for her men to live. She’d give everything for her Lion’s Pride.

Golden hair that glows in the night from the firelight. Her heart that glows just as bright. Brighter than her Pride’s. She’d protect the realm, with her life.”

You sat in the quite for a moment. Before looking down at the child. “Where’d you learn that?”

Lucia turned her head to look up at you. “I heard some of the men singing it. I asked them and they taught me the words. They say it’s about Y/N Lannister.”

You smiled brightly at her words. “And who is Y/N?” You questioned. She only shrugged and you smiled more. She wouldn’t know your real name. She was just a child. And she had never been taught to call you that. Only ‘mama’ or ‘mother’.

But the thought came to you, who wrote a song about you? You were nothing special. Just a bastard girl born of incest, who had just so happened to work her way upinto people’s trust once that became common knowledge.

But no matter what, Your heart still broke for how your siblings died. How two of them were poisoned and one of them killed himself. They were all gruesome. But you knew now what you would name your child if it was born a girl.

“If you ever have a sister, Her name will be Myrcella.” But that was when the horn blew. And you felt your heart sink to the pit of your stomach


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

You ran to the crypt. Lucia whining in your ear so loud you could have sworn that she was crying from everyone who seemed to be in a panic all around you.

You swung the door open to the crypt, going down the flight of stairs to were they were in a hurry of setting up the crypt. Still unprepared.

“Varys!” You shouted when you saw him. He looked up to you, seeing you holding the seven year old girl against you tightly. You could both make out the scared sobs coming from Lucia.

He made his way over to you in a hurry. Looking at the girl as you pulled her away from you “I love you, Lucia. So much.” You were choking up the tears swelling up in your eyes. “I will always protect you. I will fight for you. You have to stay with Varys, promise me?” You were in a rush. You had to grab a horse and ride out to the right flank of the field where your men were, waiting for your command.

She sobbed and shook her head. You laughed sadly, taking your fingers to her cheeks and wiping away the tears. “No tears. Don’t shed them for me. Or for your father. Save them, when You really need them. You are my pride and joy. I love you, I have to go. I love you so much.” You sobbed handing her to Varys who struggled to keep her in his grasp because she tried to wiggle out and run to you.

But you had left as quick as you could. Back up the stairs of the crypt and to the stables. The tears still fresh in your eyes. “Your grace!” Someone yelled.

You turned your head to them Seeing a man with Lannister armor on his body, with two horses. One very large one. “I have your horse ready!”

You waisted no time running to him as he rounded the large white horse and helped you up the large beast.

“What’s your name?” You demanded, though not forcefully. Too scared to be so straight forward.

“Tommen. Your grace.” You stopped for a moment looking at him. You knew that there was no such thing as a new name. After all, Joffrey had been named after a Lannister king and the Velaryon prince. You knew Tommen had been named after the two kings of The Rock. Tommen the first and the second. And you knew you had been named after one of their daughters.

“What family are you from?” You questioned

“A distant relative of the Lannisters of Lannisport your grace.” He responded. 

“You don’t have the name Lannister?”

He shook his head. You nodded as he mounted the dark brown colored horse of his own that was shorter than yours. “Stay by my side, Tommen. And fight bravely.” You said to him riding out of the gates of Winterfell. The cold air felt like it was needles pricking at your cheeks and eyes as you rode to the right flank. But you pulled on the reigns of the horse, when you saw the dark horizon. Many men would die tonight. And very few would survive.

You intended on most of your men to survive. Even if you hadn’t met most of them. But as you approached the line up of men in their dirtied Lannister armor with Tommen right behind you, you saw men you had been introduced to at High Garden. At your wedding to Loras. You saw men you had met years ago. Men whose houses were loyal to Lannister. Houses loyal to Tyrell.

Florent, Woodwright, Redwyne, Redding, Graves, Norridge, Swyft, Lydden, Westerling. All lined up against their will. To fight in a war they never wanted to fight in. Their heads all turned to you as your horse came to a calm trot.

You looked at all of them as well. None of them held hate in their eyes. You couldn’t tell what it was. Then you heard it.

The sound of armor moving as someone got on one knee. “Awake! Awake!” You turned your head to see the man on his knee, his weapon made of dragon glass, shaped like a sword placed in front of him. Tip of the blade to the ground.

Another man took a knee, “We Light the Way!” Men started taking knees everywhere, “Honor, Not Honors!” “Behold Our Bounty!” “Never Resting!” “I Have No Rival!”

“Is this a joke?” You murmured to yourself as all of the men took a knee, saying words of their houses.

Tommen came up to your side, shaking his head. “I believe they’re putting their faith into you. To lead them into battle.”

You breathed out, taken aback. “They don’t know me, they shouldn’t trust me.”

“You’re of house Lannister, Baratheon and Tyrell. You’re their leader. The Lady of Casterly Rock and High Garden. Their Lady Paramount of the Reach. Wardeness of the South.” He reasoned

You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes again. You didn’t know any of them well. But they trusted you. They were bending the knee, To you. This was sure to get you into some deep water with Daenerys. But you didn’t care. You’d never had this before. People who were openly saying they trusted you.

You looked behind you to see the Dothracki, Unsullied and even Starks, Karstarks and so many other northmen and women. So many men and women loyal to Daenerys looking upon the sight.

You only smiled and looked up at the walls of Winterfell. Seeing Daenerys and Jon standing behind the parapet, looking down at you. You made eye contact with the lilac eyed woman. Her glare was intense. But the pride in your men was making your heart ache.

“Our’s is The Fury! Hear Me Roar! Growing Strong!” You yelled to them over their own house words.

They all looked to you. “Your Grace! I will follow you!” One man shouted. Another agreed “As will I, Your Grace!”

That began the onslaught of ‘Your Grace’ and oaths and promises from the men as they stood, holding up their weapons.

You rode to the front of the flank. Sitting on your horse as the men got quiet once more. Tommen rode to your side. “The dragon queen told me to assist you.” He admitted.

“So you will. Don’t die in this battle. The world already lost one Tommen within the last two years. We don’t need to loose another.”

He turned his head to you. His blue eyes looking you up and down. Everyone understood that the boy had gone out in a gruesome way. But no one talked about it. No one even mentioned it.

He only nodded in response as you sat in the quiet for moments on end. Waiting for something. Anything to come from across the battle field.

Most of your men were on foot. The Dothracki on their horses. It was what they were known for after all. Unsullied stood with spears in their hands.

But all that came forward was a rider on a horse to the Dothracki. You knew the red of that robe she wore. Melisandre.

She rode right up to where Jorah was, and spoke to him. Not that you could hear what she said from your distance so far away.

She had taken her horse close to the Dothraki and not even a moment later their weapons lit up in fire. You were startled to say the least. The fire a sudden light in the dark night.

The soldiers began to exclaim at what she had done to the weapons. “Your Grace-“

“Shh! Let her.” You said to Tommen as the horse shifted it’s weight.

Melisandre rode to the gate of Winterfell and you could hear Davos yell, even from you were to open the gate. A chorus of the words repeated by other northmen before you could hear the large, heavy gate beginning to open to the red woman.

The Dothracki began screaming, chanting in their language as Jorah lead them to the other side of the field. You watched as the horses ran, the light being the only thing lighting up the horizon as they rose. A hand subconsciously rested on the armor that covered your abdomen.

Some of the Unsullied released the catapults that had been set on fire. You watched as literal balls of fire were flung through the night air, lighting up the clouds making them look like they were on fire. They looked like comets flying through the sky.

But when the Dothraki reached the other side, you saw the lights go out. Instinctively you hopped off of the horse and took a step forward, looking at the horizon In concern.

You could hear their screams and yells all the way across. And it had the pit in your stomach grow. You walked forward, hands firmly at your sides as you leaned your shoulders back.

You saw one horse running back to Winterfell. Then you could hear the sound of more hooves against the snow running back in fear. Was it just the horses?

Then the sight of the Dothraki running on foot came into view. That wasn’t like them. They were known for their horses. So known that they were called the horse lords.

“Your Grace, get back on your horse!” Tommen urged. “Give it a moment.” You said to him watching as more of the horses and Dothracki came back.

You saw Jorah, still on his horse riding back to the fleet.

You could hear the awful sounds of those things. That was when you ran back to your horse and lifted yourself up onto it’s back. Unsheathing your sword, which many of the other men behind you did as well. Some Valyrian, from their ancient houses, some dragon glass.

The sounds became louder and louder. You closed your eyes for a second and reopened them to see the wights running full speed to everyone. “We Light The Way!” A man yelled from behind you. Hightower. “Honor, Not Honors!” Another yelled. It became a choir of men saying their house words once again

“Our’s Is The Fury!” You screamed “Hear Me Roar!” You screamed again as the came sprinting to your flank. The men began to fight off the dead. Swinging their weapons as you ushered the horse to run into the Wights. Your own sword coming down to hit against the bone necks of the dead to take their heads with you as you rode.

But your horse lost his balance and fell from being surrounded by the dead. You fell with it. Rolling away from the horse involuntarily. Your shoulder coming into contact with the snow covered ground. You felt the Wights start to run past you once you had fully landed.

Sitting up you saw all your men. Still standing their ground from the dead. You forced yourself up, feeling a bone like hand come into contact with your glove covered hand. Looking at it you saw a Wight on the ground. You took your sword and stabbed it through the eye socket before you ran to your men.

But then you could hear the sound of dragon fire hitting the ground on the other side of the field. Looking over you saw the orange fire coming from the dragon above.

“This bitch, has lost her mind.”

You hadn’t even realized you said it. You just looked up at the large dragon, continuing to run to your men. They followed you. You needed to fight by their side. Maybe this was why they chose you. Because you were willing to fight with them on the ground. You would never make them kneel if they didn’t want to. But yet they did. And even now, it confused you.

You didn’t what else to do but fight your way to survival, But not even a moment later a harsh wind with snow clouded your vision along with your regiment. “Circle!” You yelled

They seemed to know what you meant and got side by side, forming a large circle of defense for each other. Weapons held high and swinging at whatever figure you thought was a Wight.

It was like an avalanche had happened. But it wasn’t quite that bad. And the wind was loose. The only bad part about it was the snow.

* * *

Lucia was sitting on the dirt. The dark encasing most of the roomm. The only thing keeping her from falling asleep was the firelight that lit up the faces of strangers around her. The only one she knew was Varys. And he had many other people to keep an eye on.

What caught her attention was the door of the crypt opening and then closing once more. Looking to the stairs she saw a familiar figure. A smile lit up her face as she saw her redheaded aunt come down the stairs.

“Aunty Sansa!” She exclaimed happily, running up to the tall woman who picked her up on instinct. Lucia’s small arms wrapped around her aunt tightly

The indistinct whispering around them no longer bothering her as, she now had someone who she knew well. Someone she trusted with all her heart who wasn’t her mother or father, or Varys.

Sansa kept walking with her niece in her arms, as protective as she would be if Lucia were her own. Sansa loved Lucia as her own. She had been the one thing that made her happy in the capitol. How Lucia reminded her of her father whenever she smiled as a baby. It reminded her of her own dreams of having her own children. How they’d look like her brothers and sisters. But Lucia just looked like Jon, who looked like a Stark.

Sansa came to a stop at a fork in the crypt. Where Tyrion, Missandei and other women, men and children where. Lucia still protectively in her arms.

* * *

It all became too much. Everyone was becoming too tired to keep fighting. Especially with all their might like they were right now “Fall back!” You heard throughout the field.

“Your Grace what should we do?” A man asked you from your left side. “We fall back.” Was your response as you stabbed a Wight through the stomach as it came at you.

“Fall back!” You yelled. They all fell out of the circle and ran to the gate, pounding on the door as hard as they could to be let in. You were right behind them, watching their backs so they could get there safely. “Tommen, go!” You yelled to the man who seemed to be going a bit slow for your liking.

“I am, Your Grace!”

“Go faster!”

Once the gate had opened you began to fight of the wights as they tried to get to the men and women who filed into Winterfell,

“Protect the retreat!” You yelled to some of the men and women who seemed to still be holding their ground on the field.

The Unsullied were doing the same. Standing their ground to protect everyone while they tried to reach safety.

But when Tommen yelled for you from on top of the wall of Winterfell, you knew. You had to protect the men in the castle walls as well. So you filed into the large groups of the soldiers who were running into the castle. Your sword was in your hand. The red stone in the center gleaming from the firelight around you all. Your feet carried you all the way to the castle walls, before you could even realize it your shoulder was grabbed by a large hand. Looking up you saw Brienne who had both you and Podrick. She gave you both a very quick look over. “Go! Get inside! Y/N, find your father!” You nodded and ran side by side with the squire to were everyone else was running for safety.

“Get in! Get in!” You heard men yelling, ushering everyone. That was when another large hand grabbed your shoulder. You looked up again to see the very familiar face of your father. He also gave a quick look over “Thank the gods.”

“The gods didn’t do anything, I did!” You said back. He only smiled at you and pushed you to go in.

You ran as fast as you could to a tower that would take up to the wall and eventually, after you climbed a large set of stairs you reached the top, out of breath and throat burning from taking in the cold air. You were sweating from all of the running and fighting, but you were so cold.

The red leather gloves barley kept your hands warm, they were freezing and shaking once you had gotten to the top. “Tommen! What’s going on?” You yelled running to the man who was looking down at the field. When you joined him you saw the dead trying to wiggle their way through the wooden posts you had set up. And Meisandre sat on her knees, hands on the wooden post of one them chanting something in Valyrian before the entire trench caught fire.

“Could they not get Daenerys to do it?” You questioned.

“The Dragon Queen is no where to be seen, Your Grace.” He informed you sternly. You practically growled at that.

But not even a moment later you saw a dragon fly overhead “Which one was that?”

He shrugged “I don’t know, Your Grace. I couldn’t see the color.”

“Daenerys best pray to all the gods in existence that it was Jon Snow.” You were angry. She went against the plan. You had all agreed. She’d be prepared to go to the Godswood. But instead she was on the battle field. And so was Jon. He was encouraging this mess.

* * *

Lucia could hear the sound of a child crying as she sat in her aunt’s lap. It was quiet except for that awful sound that Lucia decided, she hated.

Sansa’s cloak was wrapped around Lucia was well. The only thing showing from Lucia’s body was her head which was resting contently on Sansa’s chest. Listening to her heart beat at an eerily calm pace. Lucia found it comforting. The sound of the beating and the way her chest rose and fell. It reminded her of when she was able to snuggle with her mother and father.

“At least we’re already in a crypt.” Varys said to break the silence that had grown quite awkward.

“If we were up there, We might see something everyone else is missing. Something that makes a difference.” Lucia looked to her great uncle Tyrion who was facing away from them all, looking at the old stone walls.

Varys scoffed.

”What? Remember the Battle of Blackwater? I brought us through the Mud Gate.”

“No.” Lucia said quietly. “Hush, you were just a baby still.” Sansa whispered to her,

“And got your face cut in half.” Varys responded calmly.

Lucia looked at Tyrion seeing the scar that stretched through his entire face at an angle. She had always wondered where it was from. She knew both her parents had scars on their faces.

Her mother had one on her cheek. One she knew hadn’t been there awhile ago.

Her father had a few. One going straight through his brow and the other on his temple.

Tyrion and Varys continued their small argument, while Lucia was resting peacefully in her spot. The warmth of her aunt’s embrace making her feel drowsy.

“If I was out there right now-“

“You’d die.” Lucia looked up at Sansa who had spoken up. “There’s nothing you can do.”

Tyrion placed something on the ground, grabbing his wine and walking to them both “You might be surprised at the length I’d go to avoid joining the army of the dead. I could think of no organization less suited to my talents.”

Tyrion then looked down at Lucia, a kind smile on his face, before his index finger came up and poked her nose. Lucia smiled and closed her eyes at the sudden contact.

“Witty remarks won’t make a difference. That’s why we’re down here, none of us can do anything. It’s the truth. It’s the most heroic thing we can do now… Look the truth in the face.”

A second of silence came before Tyrion broke it again “Maybe we should have stayed married.”

“You were the best of them.”

“What a terrifying thought.”

* * *

You stood watching the dead. Watching how the waited for the fire to go out. You had sheathed your sword once again. The dirt and blood on your face had dried quickly as you looked down at them. A look of loathing clear as day.

But one took a step forward and fell face first into the fire. It was peculiar. And you and Tommen shared an equally confused glance. But yet another did it.

“What are they doing?” He questioned.

It clicked suddenly. “They’re making a bridge.”

Tommen looked at you once more in even more confusion than before. “What?”

“If they lay enough down, they’ll extinguish enough fire to cross.”

Eventually, and very quickly that became a reality when parts of the fire started to go out when more and more began to lie next to and on top of each other.

“Man the wall!”You yelled with Davos. It began what seemed like the millionth stream of the same command being spread across the castle

You were frozen in place once the hoard of them came against the wall, climbing onto of each other to get up. You unsheathed the sword that had once been a gift for your brother and held it, defensively. Ready to defend the castle.

“Get more men up here!” You shouted. Tommen ran to get more men and your father came up next to you “Archers on top!” He yelled to the men “You’re doing great, darling.” He said, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. You gave him a small smile and a nod.

It was full of yelling and shouting, men and women rushing past with bows in their hands ready to shoot at the dead who were desperately trying to climb up the walls.

“Draw!” You shouted

The men drew back their arrows and without even giving your command they let them loose. When one Wight came to the top of the wall in front of you, you swung your sword against its head, killing it once more.

They climbed to fast, they killed so many so quick. You moved to the other end swing you sword, Brienne who was right behind you swung at two of the wights who fell against the wooden railing which then broke under their light weight. She kept moving. Killing them as they came above the wall. You turned when you heard your father shout out in pain. But before you could spot him you felt a heavy weight tackle you down.

You could feel your body rolling down the roof that had been below. Not even a second later you felt a strong arm grab you and pull you back up, the wight falling to the ground below.

“Are you alright?” Brienne questioned. You nodded. “I’m fine”

You had been put back to back with Brienne and your father, killing the wights as they attacked over the wall.

Jaime faced west, Brienne to the east and you, to the south. Facing the wall. Pushing and kicking the dead back over the wall as they climbed over it.

But there were too many. It wasn’t long before another wight tackled you. You lost your balance and fell. Brienne unable to catch you this time. You went falling to the ground below. The feeling of the hard ground coming into contact with your back was what hurt the most. Your back practically screamed out in pain as you held back the dead man from biting off your cheek.

He was stronger than you somehow. He was mostly just bone. He had no weapon and he was stronger.

But the sound of the back of his skull cracking came to your ears. You closed your eyes as the silvery tip of a sword came through the eye socket.

The Wight went limb as you threw it off of you. You opened your eyes once more to see Jorah looking down at you, his hand extended out to help you up. You smiled and reached up, hand wrapping around his forearm as his did the same, helping pull you from the ground. “Thank you, Jorah.” You said to him

He only nodded

You could hear the dead jumping down from the wall down the main ground of Winterfell. “We’re in trouble aren’t we?”

“I’m afraid we are, Lady Tyrell.”

You nodded, mimicking his own nod from before without knowing it. “I’ll see you on the other side of this battle!” You said running off to try and find anyone else you knew. You had to find your men. Try to protect them.

They trusted you, relied on you. You couldn’t let them down. Not in a moment of life or death.

When you ran up and down the wall, trying to find Tommen you kept them away from you, every single dead man and woman who tried to grab at you. One of them had caught your hair, only to have your sword driven deep into their torso.

The blue fire caught your attention. The sight of it against the wall. Niether of the other dragons breathed bl- An ice dragon. “Shit.” You grumbled starting to run right back to find him. Hoping that you’d see any of your men

“Your Grace!”

Tommen. He up behind you. “We have to get you to safety!”

“No! I have a Valyrian steel sword, I will fight until they all die or I do.” You yelled as you continued to run.

It was like it was Brienne and Jaime’s job to grab your shoulder or upper arm, because the moment you passed by an archway of a wall that separated two courtyards, you felt your father grab your upper arm.

“Are you still okay?”

You gave him a curt nod “I’m your daughter, No one can really hurt me in a fight. I’m stubborn.”

He frowned at that. Not like the response but smiled a second later. “You are a Lannister, through and through.” You laughed unevenly, the cold making you shake.

But he quickly let go after his face fell and swung his dragon glass against the skull of a wight a deep scream coming out as he pushed you behind him, Tommen following you, doing as you told him. Staying by your side.

You then realized why. All the dead that you had fought off, all the men that fell. They were rising once again. Eyes that had once been green, brown, grey and even black were now glowing that awful blue that you dreaded.

Dothracki, Unsullied, Men of the Night’s Watch, Karstark, Stark, you could only see one of your men with those haunting eyes as he stared right at you.

* * *

Lucia had gone to sitting on the floor, looking up at one of the statues. A man. He looked brave. A sword that had been carved to rest on his waist. “That’s my grandafather, Rickard Stark. He’s your great grandfather.” Sansa said to her.

She was too distracted by the look of the statue, how the man looked straight ahead. She was related him. Like she was to her grandmother Cersei.

However, the sound of scraping against stone caught her small ear’s attention. Lucia stood from the dirt and walked over to the statue, the one she was sure it was coming from.

But she felt something hit her shoe. Looking down she saw a piece of stone. She then looked to the stone coffin that rested beneath the statue. Seeing some of the stone in one place crumbling.

She bent down, curious as to what was going on with the decaying stone. Something popped out. She didn’t know what to make of it, but it looked like bone. Dirty bone. It was a hand! She realized.

Stepping back a few inches she looked at it. But not even a second later the boney hand grabbed at her own. A scream escaped her throat as she tried to escape the grasp of the hand that slowly came became more of a body.

The pain of the fingers digging into her skin elicited more screams. And more came from behind her.

The blood from her hand was drawn on the entirety of her thumb as she scrambled away. With the bloodied hand she pulled the small dragon glass blade out from it’s small sheath that her uncle Gendry had made for her to go around her waist and she held it out defensively.

The hot tears were steaming down her face. She was scared. She didn’t know how her parents did it. Could anyone, man or a woman, be brave if they were afraid? Because Lucia was frightened to her very core. Her shoulders shaking in fear.

She felt something grab at her hood and she yelped, running away out of the sudden shock.

“Lucia!” Sansa yelled after her to no avail as Tyrion pulled her away.

Lucia ran. Fast. Trying to find a place to hide until her mother or father could come and pull her out. Hold her close and tell her everything would be okay. But her stomach told her otherwise. The twisting and turning of her stomach as it fought off the thought of being scared by these things.

She hadn’t been paying attention when it happened. When one grabbed her ankle as it busted out of its stone coffin, pulling her to the ground. Her dragon glass blade flew out of her hand. She blamed herself for it as the body of bones crawled over her, ready to nip at her skin and tear her small, skinny body apart. But the fear kept it from happening. The adrenaline pumped through her veins as her hands came up to it’s spine that connected to the skull that had once been covered by skin and she held it back by a few short inches. But her small hands that barley covered her father’s own couldn’t stop the withered bone of a hand that had scraped itself into a sharp point to try and get out of it’s coffin.

She couldn’t stop as one of the hands came up, only one finger bone left on that hand as it scraped down the right side of her face, blood began to pool out and down her face as she screamed in pain.

“Sansa!” She screamed. Blood was streaming down her fingers into her sleeves, staining the beige fabric that her mother had picked out for her.

She fought with it for the longest time before her arms started to loose strength, the weight pressing down too hard. She turned her head to the side as it came to close. The teeth scraped against the side of her nose, cutting through there as well. She could feel the blood start to go down both the left side of her cheek.

But she could see the blade that was only a foot away from her, She let go with one of her hands, reaching for the knife, her hand grabbing at the blade and not the handle, cutting into her skin. But she picked it up, stabbing the wight in the head.

She didn’t know how it happened, but one second she was running and the next she was hiding behind a statue. Not behind the coffin. But the statue. It was of a woman. A woman with a soft face. That’s all Lucia knew as she tried to block out the screams of the others as the red liquid red down her face and hands. The blood from her nose dripping down onto her dress as she sobbed.

* * *

You continued to fight, even when cornered. Jaime, Brienne and Tommen had all tried to push you behind them and into the corner while the covered you.

You had refused.

Pushing them aside you had begun to fight. You came from a long line of fighters. Kings and Queens of the Rock before Aegon the Conqueror came along. You were a Lion. A golden one. Maybe that’s why you seemed too visible to the Wights as they swarmed you all.

‘If gold is polished right’

The bodies were piled everywhere Some of the men and women who laid down their lives for this, and some who had been killed before. And had stormed the gate as a wights.

‘You can see it from far away’

Bodies fell from onto of walls, men and women were fighting on top of the piles. You couldn’t make out anyone who could be your own as they snow fell and the smoke from the field had pooled into the castle walls.

‘Even if, it’s the smallest little fleck’

You remembered what your grandfather had told you as he had picked you up one day, complaining about the necklace that Robert had made for you, Saying you would have preferred a full gold. Instead of the silver with small accents of gold. You had told him you wanted to stand out when you went to the sept for an occasion you couldn’t even remember now.

You had been the shortest of all your siblings. Myrcella was a few inches taller as was Joffrey. Tommen had been so little he had been held the entire time by your mother.

‘You will stand out, You have gold in your veins, and you wear it with pride.’

Everyone. Everyone you had lost. Everyone you had mourned. They all taught you something. And all of it combines, made you. And you. You had to keep fighting. Until every last one of them fell to the ground when the Night King was dead.

You could hear the crash of bricks as they fell. Looking above one of the buildings you could see a dragon. Breathing the deathly blue fire. But it was injured. Fire was streaming through the sides of it’s throat as it breathed it down on the people below.

It all began to become over whelming. One had gotten past. Pushing you against to cold brick wall behind you, your head hit and you went dizzy for a moment as you kept it an arms length away with one hand and stabbed it with with your sword.

But they fell. Every last one of their dead bodies dropped to the ground. Dropping like flies. Was this it? Was this the end of the long night? Could you finally make sure everyone you knew and loved was okay? Was Jon alright? Or Lucia, or Sansa, or Arya?

But it was involuntary as you dropped to your knees. The exhaustion finally hitting your bones. But you couldn’t sleep.

You let out a deep, loud, long lasting scream. Ready to fall and sleep right where you were.

But as your shoulder lowered to let you fall, your father and Tommen grabbed you.

“Your Grace?” “Y/N? Darling are you alright?”

“It’s finally over”


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

Jaime and Tommen helped you up. Podrick giving you a look that read ‘are you okay’ you only nodded and smiled.

The men in Lannister armor started to wander, curious as to what had just happened to the army you had been fighting. But they all looked to you. “Your Grace?”

“We won. We won this war.”

You could see so many of your own men, some on top of walls, some sitting down exhausted and some looking ready to faint. You stepped over the literal mountain of the dead bodies that surrounded the corner you had found safety in and went to survey the bodies. See if you could find any more Lannisters. You had found a few. Not as many as you had expected.

But when you looked down at one of the piles you saw him, Samwell Tarly laying down, a weapon still in his hand as he stared at the orange tinted sky trying to catch his breath.

You smiled down at him and held out your hand. That grabbed his attention. He looked at you and a small smile came across his own face as he reached up with his own and grabbed onto your forearm as you did the same with him, pulling him off of the ground.

“Princess Y/N?”

“Samwell Tarly.” You greeted. “I haven’t seen you since I was ten.”

He nodded and looked down at you. “You’re a young woman now.” Sam observed with an awkward smile. “And You’re a grown man who just survived the fight of his life.”

* * *

You had gone through a stone hall that was littered with bodies. Only a few patches that allowed your feet through the other side. But you found your way through with Tommen trailing behind you like a lost puppy. He was young. No more than 14. Was he scared? Or did he see you as a position of power? Did he want to follow that power?

This hall lead to another court yard. And when you stepped through you saw Jon. Covered in sweat, his clothing muddied and a scrape on his upper right cheek bone. A large dragon that was blue in the center, fallen. You knew his scales had once been cream and gold.

Jon’s eyes landed on you after he surveyed the area. A large, relieved, smile graced both of your faces before you started to make your way to each other. The sudden embrace was something you happily welcomed. Your arms wrapping tightly around him. Tighter than they ever had before. You were afraid you had lost him. It was only now you realized just how much you truly loved him.

You loved the way he laughed, his smile, and the sound of his voice. The deep accent that only a northerner had. You loved how he hated when you laid on the bed with your shoes still on. You loved the nagging that came with it.

‘We sleep there! We don’t put muddy shoes on the clean furs!’

He loved it when you helped him dress in the mornings. How you would help him into his vest and his armor. He always did it with you as well. Always wanting to return the favor.

You would have missed that step in the morning for the rest of your life. It had become routine within the past months, almost a year, you had him back with you.

“Are you alright?” He suddenly asked, pulling away and looking you over. “I’m fine. Happy to see you alive. My father… He’s helping with searching and counting.”

Jon nodded, cupping your cheeks and making you look at him. You arose no complaints. You loved his eyes.

“It was Arya, she killed him.”

Your shook your head in confusion “How do you know?”

“She told me. But…We lost Theon.”

“Gods.”

* * *

You had all run through, counting off your men. And to your surprise, only a small portion of them had been lost. Only an 8th. Far less than half.

Podrick had gone down to the crypts with Tommen to check and make sure everyone was alright. But that was almost an hour ago. And the sun was beginning to rise. The now natural orange of the sky mixing with the smoke from the trench that was still burning outside the gates.

But once you had gotten one good, long look at them all, you felt horrible. Scratches and bruises, lacerations and some broken bones. They were exhausted. That’s when you came to a conclusion.

“If any of you, would like to go home. You can. I won’t stop you. No one will. We will let you go south, back to the Reach or to the Westerlands. I know you saw friends fall today. I know you’ve seen family fall. Men you knew. Maybe you didn’t. But go. See your families. I’m sure they’re worried about you. I would be if I was anyone one of your mothers. Or your sisters. Wives. If you would like to take your leave, you can place your dragon glass down, and we will supply you with horses and as much food as we can spare.”

They looked at you, unreadable faces. None of them placed down their weapons. “I said!-“

“We heard what you said Your Grace. But we will not leave. You still have a war to fight. And our families would be proud of us for fighting for you. Our queen of the seven kingdoms.” One of them spoke from the center.

You looked down to your feet and then back up. “Then you’ll stay if you want to fight. You’ll stay and every battle will start with our words.”

A few smiled at that. But before you could speak again, Tommen came running over to you. “Your Grace! Your Grace!”

You hadn’t even noticed him turn the corner before he began shouting.

Everyone’s head turned to him as he ran up and stopped a meter away from you. “Tommen? Are you alright?” He nodded, out of breath. “We can’t- find- Lucia.”

You could feel your blood run cold for a split second before your heart began beating so fast you thought it break.

You dropped the parchment you had, the one with everyone’s name. The names of men who were still alive, and the names that had been checked off, of men who lost their lives.

You ran, so fast and so carelessly that you almost tripped over the bodies that were slowly been moved into organized lines on the field so they could identify them. You shoved your way past soldiers and civilians that had been rushed into Winterfell by Sansa’s command. All to get to the opened crypt door.

Jon was already there, almost breaking down in angry tears. Sansa trying to console him, and Podrick standing there awkwardly as you ran down the steps so fast it didn’t even feel like stairs. It felt like stepping on rock covered ground and slipped down the rest of the hill.

“Sansa!” You exclaimed worriedly. “Tommen told me you can’t find her?”

Sansa looked ashamed “It’s my fault.” She said, almost in tears herself. You shook your head in disagreement. “It was never your fault. Sansa, she loves you so much and love her. You’re family. I know you did as much as you could to keep an eye on her.”

You couldn’t blame the Stark girl. Lucia was quick. And if she had gotten frightened she would have ran. Wether it be from the fighting outside or something else. But then it hit you. The bodies on the ground that were being carried out. Some of them were mostly just bone. “Did they bust out of their coffins?”

Sansa nodded “That’s when she ran.”

You turned to look behind you. The stinging feeling in you eyes becoming more prevalent, it became harder to keep them open. “Get the troops. Bring them in. Tell them I want all my men down here searching for my daughter. No one will rest until she’s found.” He nodded and ran back out.

You looked to Jon, who had sat on the stairs. “What if we lost her?” He was thinking the worst out loud. You shook your head vigorously, bending down in front of him, resting your hands on his knees.

“We didn’t. I know we didn’t. She’s just hiding. She’s probably scared. Now, we have to stand up and search for her. We have to find our little girl.”

Jon looked at you and nodded, standing from his spot and pulling you from yours.

* * *

You had searched everywhere on your side of the crypt, close to breaking down, think you had truly lost her. A little girl who you had carried and given birth to. A little girl who loved lemon cakes almost as much as Sansa, and who didn’t like her hair pulled all the way back, always wanting to show some of her curls off.

She loved silver. She loved it so much she wanted to wear grey all the time. You never understood it, but you complied with it. Dressing her in light grey dresses and Sansa even went as far as starting to make her a coat with a silver colored pelt.

“We’ll find her Your Grace.” Tommen said looking behind one of the statues. You had gone so far deep inside the crypt, so far that you were by Brandon the builder. The founder of the great house who’s lands you were on.

“I hope so.” You said aloud.

Jon and some of his own men went the other way. You didn’t know which Starks were there. But when you looked behind a statue you heard yelling from the echoey halls of the crypt.

“Come here, child!”

“Lucia!” That was Jon’s voice. And for the second time that morning you ran, the torch’s light trailing behind you as you chased after the voices.

As you got closer you could see Jon trying to coax her out from behind a statue. It was of a woman. A woman with a very soft looking face. Southern perhaps.

“Is she back there?” It was a stupid question. You knew she was.

from where you were, you could see her shaking. Her knees pulled tightly to her chest and her face buried between her knees.

Jon nodded, holding his hand out for his daughter to take. She was scared. You knew Lucia wasn’t easily scared. She was like you in that regard. So whatever had happened. It had been bad.

You could see Lucia’s head turn But all you could make out was the shape of her profile. He nose shaped like Jon’s. But something was off about it, something had changed in her nose. And her chin.

But before you could make it out, she had grabbed Jon’s hand and he pulled her too him to get a look at her. But the silent sobs had become loud once she forced him to hug her instead. Her face buried into his side. But the red of her selves caught your eye. Her selves shouldn’t be red. They should be-

There was a gash right down her face, dried blood and some new droplets of blood still coming from the wound.

“Jon.” You said shakily, the horrific feeling of wanting to cry and vomit all at the same time was overwhelming. You had never seen a single trop of blood on her body. You had seen bruises and you had kissed them better before, she’d had scrapes on her knees before that never fully bled because you would always put a handkerchief over it before it could.

He looked at you confused before down at the little girl. He could see the red on her selves as well. The deep red of blood that had soaked into the wool of her dress. He pulled back abruptly which made her cry out in paint when he grabbed one of her arms. It didn’t take long to realize that a giant gash was going down her arm as well.

The look of horror that crossed his face was enough to make you fall down on your knees and just stare. Was this what true shock was? Looking upon your own flesh and blood who had been hurt so badly?

She was pale. Paler then she should be. You could see beads of sweat rolling down her forehead and cheeks, her chest moving rapidly as she squirmed in Jon’s grip.

He grabbed her waist and picked her up and off the ground, rushing away, holding the back of her head. Her eyes were closed as her chin rested on cold metal of his breast plate. You rushed after them. The men you had pulled down there following you both.

It was hard to tell the difference between her tears and the sweat.

Sansa saw you all as you were practically running out of the crypts. She followed after. Coming up next to you as you struggled to keep up with him.

“Lucia! Do not sleep!” You told her, her eyes snapped open and looked at you, giving you a small nod.

You could see the white underneath the giant cut of her face. Bone. That was her bone. The skull underneath the skin.

The fast, long steps to the Maester’s quarters were fast, as Lucia struggled to keep her eyes open. Her arms weakly around her father’s neck.

Jon practically kicked open the door of the room and stomped in. The maester reacted quickly seeing her and the amount of blood that streamed down her arms to her elbows and shoulders. He came over to look at Lucia a look of fear crossing his own face. “I don’t think I ca-“

“Do it!” The three of you yelled, Jon, You and Sansa, all yelling at a maester.

He only nodded and lead you all to a room. The same one Bran had been in after his fall. This was the room were that Stark’s used for family who were healing. Or dying.

Jon placed her in the center of the bed, taking the beige dress off of her small frame to show her pale skin which was flush red on her shoulders, cheeks, elbows, hands and the center of her chest.

The only thing on her body now was her petticoat and her shoes.

The maester had brought out a needle and something else. “Gods have mercy on me.” The measure spoke to himself as he tied the thread around the eye of the needle and settled the point of it at her arm were one of the gashes was.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

Lucia was sat right next to you, bandages around her face, hands and arm. They had been stitched up. Every single cut. And the only reason she was here with you all in the dinning hall was because she had begged to be with everyone else. Because she felt isolated.

But most of the time, she didn’t spend with the people around them. She spent it sitting in Jon’s lap, her head resting on his chest as he held his goblet of ale and she was holding her smaller cup of grape juice.

Her small plate had a mountain of food on it. Meat, bread, everything the Maester said she should eat to get back to her previous strength. She ate most of it. All that was left was the seeds from some plant. You didn’t blame her for not eating it.

The dead had been burned that morning. After a week and a half of building pyres and placing bodies on top.

There was talking from the people in front of the head table. Not loud. But it was there. And the hushed whispers from Jon to Lucia.

“I’ll get you pie, but you can’t let your mother see it. Alright?”

You smiled to yourself, knowing she would have agreed to that deal.

Jon had been … You didn’t know what to call it. He was showering Lucia in love. More so than he had before. Sneaking her out of bed at night to steel slices of pie from the kitchens. Indulging her by playing dolls with her. He even asked you if you could teach him how to do her hair.

You had been as well, Sansa, Tyrion and Jaime all had. Tyrion had begun to read to her at night, the stories of the kings and queens of Winter, The Rock and even Dorne.

Jaime had given her short sparing lessons in her room when she had the energy to. And Sansa had finished her coat quicker than she would. Lucia had a total of five new dresses and even a new shirt and breeches.

You had gone to the gardens, and had found the most beautiful flower you’d ever seen. A blue rose that you’d only heard about from Ned. When he had started to watch over you when you were pregnant, he told you of his sister. How he could remember her with a garland made of them. And so you made your own garland for Lucia. Even teaching her to make them herself.

In turn a day later, you had your own garland resting on your head.

Jon stood with Lucia in his arms, “I’ll be right back.” He said to you. You only nodded and looked to Sansa, who was already giving you a knowing smile. But then her gaze shifted to behind you. Turning you head you saw Daenerys, her eyes following Jon. But focused on Lucia.

It set something off in you. Like a flame. You wanted to rise out of your seat and punch her bloody for even looking at your daughter. But you pushed it down. Only giving her the same look your mother had always given to Maragery.

And when Jon came back into the dinning hall, Lucia was holding his hand happily, trying to discreetly hold the dish of pie so low that you couldn’t see it.

“Oh, lemon cakes!” Sansa said with a smile, picking one off of Lucia’s plate as she walked by.

You laughed as Lucia pouted up at her aunt “That was mine!” She complained. “You have a whole slice of pie, You’ll be alright.” Lucia shrugged and detached her hand from Jon’s and sat in his seat.

“Not so fast, babykins.”He teased, picking her up and sitting down himself, resting her in his lap.

“I see you have pie.” You nodded to the plate that was in clear view to you. “Want a bite?” Lucia questioned eagerly

“No thank you, Little Snow. It’s yours. You deserve it for being the bravest child in this entire castle.”

“Gendry”

You looked up to see Gendry, stopped dead in his tracks by the door. Looking forward. Was she trying to start something with the bastard who you had claimed as a brother? Cause if so, you were very close to hitting her with the flat side of your sword.

“That is right isn’t it?”

Gendry walked to the center, right before the table. He looked at you, as if asking for permission. You knew what it was for. Everyone who was close to you, all except Jon always looked at you for permission to call her ‘Your Grace’

And you were trying to play your cards right. So you nodded. He then turned his gaze to Daenerys.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“You’re Robert Baratheon’s son.”

You heart clenched at that. You could still see Robert’s face, as you sat next to your brother. As the king was dying. And in his final moments, you had a bad feeling. And it had been recognized soon enough.

“You are aware he took my family’s throne and tried to have me murdered?”

Funny. She had been the one who always said, ‘children are not their fathers’ Yet here she was. Trying to blame Gendry for something that happened before he was even born.

“I didn’t even know he was my father until after he was dead.”

“Yes, he’s dead. His brothers are too. So who’s Lord of Storm’s End now?”

No, she wasn’t doing this? You could always see right through her. You had only gone along with what happened in Meereen because the men were attacking her city. Even after you all came to an agreement.

You could see the plotting happening in her head.

“I don’t know, Your Grace.”

“Does anyone?”

Silence. That’s all she got in return from the northerners and southerners.

“I think you should be Lord of Storm’s End.”

You tilted your head, pursing your lips in thought as the conversation droned on.

“I can’t be. I’m a bastard.”

“No, you are Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storm’s End, the lawful son of Robert Baratheon. Because that is what I have made you.”

Your nose reacted as if smelling something putrid. As if rotted meat with maggots had been stuffed into your nose forcefully.

“To Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storm’s End.”

But you couldn’t not raise your glass to the man you claimed a brother. “To my brother, Lord Gendry Baratheon. May the family line never die out!” You added.

The dinners stood and raised their cups, echoing his name.

Jon looked at Gendry and stood, with Lucia at his hip as he held out his goblet of ale to Gendry.

He took it and turned to face the crowd, raising it as well, taking a drink. You stood from your seat and walked to him as he shook hands with Samwell. You grabbed his elbow and leaned close to his ear.

“Be careful with her. She only did it gain your favor. To gain an ally who won’t lay claim on the throne. She would not have done it out of the kindness of her heart. Never trust a silver haired woman.”

You pulled away, giving a smile to Samwell and the woman sitting next to him before going back to your seat.

“What was that about?” Jon questioned. “ I was congratulating my brother, is a sister not allowed to do that?”

“I feel like we should have her in out room.” Jon complained. You only smiled at him as you helped take the thick outer shirt her wore off.

* * *

“She’s fine, Jon. She said so herself. That she was okay with Tyrion reading her a story and then going to bed. Besides, she knows she can come into her anytime she wants.”

He stared down at you, looking at the top of your ear where a gold bar was going through.

“I still don’t know why you did that.” He confessed.

“Because, Lucia said she thought it’d look regal. And I thought, I might as well, for my daughter.”

Jon chuckled resting his hands on your hips before he looked down even further. Straight of your bare stomach. You weren’t wearing much. A strange version of a corset that only covered your chest, and a red petticoat that you slept in.

“Yo-you-you’re-“

“What?” You questioned looking at him in confusion.

“You’re showing.” He blurted out. His hands resting on the sides of your stomach that stuck out.

Looking down you saw what he meant. Your stomach was protruding. It took much longer the first time. Strange.

“I didn’t even realize.”

Jon, dropped down onto his knees in front of you, his hands shifting to cup your stomach. Your hands rested on his upper arms, Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His forehead rested against your stomach and you could feel his lips against the bump. Right where your child was growing.

“You’ll be an amazing father to this child.” You whispered to him. He only laughed and pulled you closer to him by placing his hands at the small of your back and pulling.

“I could only hope. I’ve never even held a baby before.”

“You will. And that baby will love to be held to by you. I could barley sleep for three months because Lucia loved to be held. She had sleeping well. But only if you held her. You had to wait an hour to be sure she was fully asleep before you put her in her cot.”

“Sounds awful.” Jon joked.

“Oh, it was. You should have been there when her baby teeth were coming in. It was the worst. She cried for hours. She chew on anything. On our wheelhouse ride to Highgarden she cried the whole way. The ladies who were serving me there didn’t allow Lucia at the wedding. Said she’d distract everyone.”

Jon stood completely up again “Tell me more about her. When she was small.”

You smiled sadly, cupping his cheeks. “She loved to sun. She loved to sit in the window with me. Sometimes she’d prefer to play in the fireplace, but she loved to look down at the city. She would rest between my legs, and her back would be against my stomach and chest.”

“Also, it was a whole thing just to get her fed. I refused to let a wet nurse do it. I wanted to. Apparently a baby has to latch on. It’s like a fish has to latch onto to a hook before you can cook it. And when she did eat, it would take her an hour to finish.”

He laughed a hearty laugh, taking a step back when you hit his chest. “It hurt once she started teething! She would bite down!”

He only laughed harder at that which made you smile too “You’re awful, you know that?”


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

“Half are gone.”

Greyworm took a handful of pieces from the board. Half of the Unsullied. Jon did the same, taking a handful of pieces

“Half the northmen as well.”

You only picked up one piece from the eight that stood for your men. They all looked at you quizzically. “An eighth. I only lost an eighth of my men.” You confirmed, looking at the Lannister lion that was painted, ever so carefully on the wooden piece.

Varys slapped down a round piece, three white skulls with a gold field.

“And the golden company has arrived in King’s Landing, courtesy of the Greyjoy fleet. The balance has grown distressingly even.”

You nodded to yourself. Lucia had followed you and Jon around the past few weeks. The cuts were healing. The one on her arm would turn into a particularly nasty scar. You had all asked what had happened to her in there, and she only shook her head. But when Tommen had recovered her dragon glass blade from behind the statue where she had dropped it, it became very clear what happened.

But she sat, content on the edge of the table with her wooden rose, who’s paint had completely chipped off after years of being played with.

“When the people find out what we have done for them, that we saved them-“ Missandei was cut off.

“Cersei will make sure they don’t believe it. We will hit her hard. We will rip her out root and stem.”

You looked at Lucia who looked at you horrified. She knew her grandmother’s name. And if Lucia could remember Sansa, she could remember the strong relationship she had with her grandmother.

“Can we not speak so harshly? A child is here, a child who’s grandmother you are talking about.”

Daenerys only looked at the child, a small smirk on her face. “Eventually, she’ll have to learn the ways of the world.”

You glared at the silver haired woman, you hated her. For how she looked at Lucia and how she spoke of your family.

“The objective here is to remove Cersei without destroying King’s Landing.”

No matter how much you hated King’s Landing, it had been your home. The smelll of ocean water mixed with the awful stench that wafted into the palace from the streets. You’d grown to miss the squeaking door of your chambers. Wait, no. You take that back, that was the most irritating part. Home. Did you even have a home now? A personalized room with plenty of clothing strewn about? Did you have a place you felt safe going out in wearing your favorite dress?

No, you supposed not. The streets of King’s Landing you knew well. Barristan and your father used to guide you through them every week. Sometimes you were accompanied by Sandor, who kept an eye on your brother, who usually acted like a kind brother in those instances, hooking arms with you and over looking Blackwater Bay while Jaime grabbed a pastry from a local baker. You remembered eating sweet bread or even a small slice of pie while you stood watching the ships.

You always knew he hated it. But you never did figure out why he followed you out. It was one of your founder memories of the sadistic little shit you called a brother.

“Thankfully, she’s losing allies by the day. Yara Greyjoy has retaken the Iron Islands in her queen’s name. The new Prince of Dorne pledges his support.” Varys said pointing out Dorne and the Iron Islands on the map. As if you couldn’t find them on your own.

“I’m hungry.” Lucia whispered to you.

“I know, sweetheart. I’ll get you fed soon.”

“No matter how many lord turn against her, as long as she sits on the Iron Throne, She can call herself Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

You closed your eyes tightly for a moment. But you felt a small reassuring hand against your balled up fist that was resting on the top of the table. She really was what kept you sane.

“We need the capital.”

“Y/N and I watched the people of King’s Landing rebel against their king when they were hungry, and that was before winter began. Give them the opportunity and they will cast Cersei aside.”

You knew the common people better than most here. Except for maybe Varys. You both knew them very well. You were in the streets with them before. You spoke with them, bargained. They rebelled not only cause they were hungry, but because Joffrey had started a war. By beheading Ned Stark. That war sent them into starvation.

“We’ll surround the city. If the Iron Fleet tries to ferry in more food, the dragons will destroy them. If the Lannisters and the Golden Company attack, We’ll defeat them in the field.”

“We cannot starve them. I’ve seen it, I will not let it happen again. A riot broke loose because people were hungry. A sept’s arm was torn off that day. People will starve. Mothers, Fathers, Children. I don’t think it will be a wise decision to burn food for the common people.” You replied to Jon. “They will grow a high distain for you, if you do.” You said to Daenerys.

You understood the suggestion. You did. But you would not standby as innocents starved because of another war for that damn throne.

“Once the people see that Cersei is our only enemy, her reign is over.”

“Allright.”

* * *

You were to go to White Harbor, and sail to Dragonstone with a small force. To gain force against the opposing Lannister troops. Your own, had been given different armor. Northmen armor. So they wouldn’t be confused with the enemy.

Jon’s journey was a bit more complicated. And your father was to stay here, with everyone else, and watch over Lucia with Sansa.

“I don’t want you to go.”

You smiled slightly at Lucia as she held her rose in her hands, sitting tall on your bed as you packed a few things.

You were wearing a gold dress, something you hadn’t worn in years. And a crown of sorts, it was down played, but it was of the sort was in your hair. Small, simple waves engraved into the gold. A ring was placed on your right hand ring finger. Your Lannister necklace, shortened into a choker. And you had practically forgotten how it felt to wear earnings. But the antler like earrings hung at your jaw. And the bar in your ear had two small roses placed on the ends.

You wore a black, leather support corset on the outside of your dress. All to support your stomach which was larger than you expected at this point. And a black vest that went over your shoulder, with a small strap the connected them on each side of your body.

Lucia now wore blue, with gold embroidery all over. You could make out roses and a few other things. But it ended at her shins and she wore breeches underneath, a deep dark gold to match. Her black coat and silver pelt on her shoulders as she held out another thing for you to pack.

“I will be back, now, we won’t get into trouble with your aunt or your grandfather will you?” You questioned.

He shook her head with a smile. “Good. I don’t want to have to knock some sense into you when I get back.”

* * *

You kissed him goodbye. A passionate kiss that you didn’t mean to go on for so long. He rested his hands on your stomach for what felt like the millionth time since he found it had grown to accommodate the growing child inside your body.

“Be safe.” He said to you, a smile on his face.

“I will, Tommen will be with me. He’ll help protect me.” You joked, looking over to the fourteen year old boy who was already on his horse, holding the reins of your white one tightly as well.

Jon laughed slightly. “You’ll protect each other. I know that. And when I see you again, you’ll be even larger.”

You smiled and kissed his cheek, “We’ll never be those kids again.” You said to him.

“No. We won’t. Back then I wanted to go off and join an ancient organization. You wanted nothing more than to just be. Now, I want nothing more than to marry the woman in front of me and have a dozen more children.”

You laughed and shook your head. “A dozen won’t happen.” You said to him “I’m standing in the ashes of who I used to be.” You admitted “After Ned… I became a new person.” You said. You wanted to go back to being that girl who could still see the good in people. But after all you’d seen… You couldn’t.

“You’re a Lion, my love. Regal, and you command respect.”

You shook your head slightly, looking into his deep brown eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever commanded anything in my life that was large. And yet, respect. From my men. From your men. From all the northmen here and the southerners who follow me. From the Reach, the Westerlands. Only a few year ago I was cowering in my room holding a new born baby, who I didn’t know would live to be where she is now. Not with my brother. Once we see each other again at Dragon Stone, we’ll decide something. Wether you will take the crown or you will let Daenerys take it.”

Jon sighed, looking down. “Everyone’s telling me that.”

“It’s yours, Jon. It’s been yours since the day you were born. I’m perfectly content with never being a queen. I’m fine with just being a lady of Casterly Rock and High Garden.”

“You’re wardeness of the south, Lady Paramount of the Reach and the Westerlands. I would gladly share warden of the North with you.”

You smiled at him a bit, brushing back a few of the stray hairs that rested around his face. He was always so caring for you. Always offering things to keep you both equal

“That would make me in charge of three different kingdoms. Three down, four to go.” You joked to him, he laughed too, but he also gave you that look. A look of deep thought.

“What’s wrong?”

He shook his head “I’ll tell you in Dragon Stone. We can discuss it there, Go. He looks impatient.” He ushered, looking past you and to the dirty blond haired boy, who sure enough, looked ready to go already.

You nodded, pulling away and smiling at Jon, going to the large white horse, pulling yourself onto his back. You looked to Jon, a smile on your face as your eyes landed on the sword that was attached to the horse. You tapped the ruby that was in the center “What should I name it?” You questioned teasingly. ‘Widows Wail’ he always was a horrid thing wasn’t he?

“Doesn’t it already have a name?” Jon asked as Lucia ran over to his side, tucking herself into his coat.

“I don’t like it. It sounds like a rotten child’s sword.”

Jon laughed at you, you even got a little snicker from Tommen beside you, Sansa walked after Lucia, a small smile on her face as well.

“Lion’s Blood!” Lucia suggested

“Antler.” Sansa suggested.

Jon only shrugged, but the onslaught of Lucia’s became overwhelming.

“Lion’s bite.” Tommen suggested quietly from beside you.

You turned to see his head down, looking at the back of the horse’s neck. He had mustered up the courage to speak. You’ve seen that look before. The nervous tears biting at his eyes.

“I like it.” You responded.

“I’m sorry, Your Grace. I shouldn’t be crying.” He said wiping a tear away on the side of his face that you couldn’t see.

“Its okay to cry. It makes you human.” You said before turning to your family, standing there, looking on at you. “Lion’s Bite.” You confirmed, nodding again. “Not bad.” You added, blowing a kiss to Lucia as you gently dug your heel into the horse’s side to get going.


	30. Chapter Thirty

The waves crashed and the ship rocked as you sat with your uncle and Lord Varys. You were sitting on a chair, looking at Tyrion, right across from Varys.

“Think of the last twenty year, the war, the murder, the misery.”

Tyrion had his cup in his hands as he spoke to Varys. “All of it because Robert Baratheon loved someone who didn’t love him back.”

“How many others know?”

Tyrion looked to you with a shrug “Including us? Nine??” You nodded in response, your own cup of wine in hand.

You didn’t care that Sansa had told him. It was her right to, the Iron Throne didn’t belong to Daenerys, and it never had. It belonged to Jon. It had since the day he was born.

“Varys also gave you a look, but you could only mimic Tyrion in that moment and give him a shrug.

“Well, then it’s not a secret anymore. Its information. If a handful of people know now, hundred will know soon. Then what happens?”

Tyrion stepped back from the table, the cup of wine still in hand. “She looses The North. She loses the Vale, Sansa will make sure of that.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, looking out the windows that had the intricate lining through it to keep it from breaking. It was beautiful. But that was all you could give this ship.

“No, it’s worse than that. He has the better claim to the throne.”

You didn’t know what to think, you had always loved Jon… for being Jon. How he was always kind, you loved how he always looked angry all the time. It gave you an excuse to try and make him laugh. You had never cared what lands or titles he had or didn’t have.

“He doesn’t want the throne.” Tyrion spoke

“I’m not sure it matters what he wants. The fact is, people are drawn to him Wildlings, Northmen. He’s a war hero. And her too.” You looked up to Varys only to meet his intense gaze.

“Not this.” You breathed out. “I fought one battle.” You explained. “You killed a king, helped negotiate with your mother and then inspired the Lannister men to fight.”

“I didn’t inspire them. I did nothing. They did that themselves.”

You we taken over by quiet for a few minutes. The sweet sound of the waves hitting the hard, thick wood.

“He’s devoted to our queen. And she loves him. If we marry them they could rules together.” Tyrion suggested.

“Have you lost your mind?” You questioned. “First you tell Jon it would be better if he broke things off with me, now you’re suggesting that he marry the dragon queen?” You demanded.

You had a shawl wrapped around your torso most of the horseback ride to white harbor and on the boat as well. Still deciding it was best to hide the pregnancy. Jon had insisted on telling people. But you refused. And within the weeks that you had left Winterfell, you’d grown a little bot more. Even your face was rounding out a bit. More hair came in on your head and your skin was more clear than ever.

“It would make the best alliance.” He suggested.

“She’s his aunt, is it normal to marry your aunt in The North? Where Jon is from? Do you honestly think he’d abandon his children?”

“He wouldn’t abandon Lucia, they’d claim her as an he- Wait… Children?”

You refused to answer, standing from your seat, picking up the long dress and walking up to the main deck as they let the anchor loose and drew up the sails. You could see the castle ahead. The boring stone bricks that you could make out from here.

You could feel the sudden cold of a shadow pass above you, the air going with it. You could hear the last two dragons screeching as they flew to the castle.

A hand rested on your stomach. That was something you had loved about pregnancy. Being able to touch the thin wall of skin, fabric, and leather that stood between you and the child that was growing.

You watched the dragons fly, both arms wrapped securely around your stomach before you watched something pierce Rhegal’s leathery, scaley skin. You gasped loudly seeing a giant arrow lodged into his chest as it bled.

He screamed out in pain. So you turned to see where the arrow came from and sure enough, you saw fleet of Greyjoy Ships.

You saw another one get lodged in right next to the other one. You covered your mother with your left hand. He kept flying lower to the ocean.

And the final one met the center of his long neck, and went through the other side. You had to all get out of there. You ran, to the side of the ship, not knowing what to do, but finally the nausea washed over you and you let go of what you had eaten for breakfast into the ocean.

He landed right next to the ship, the blood getting on the deck and on your clothing and skin. Not much of it, only drops. Big ones. But only drops.

It rocked the ship and Varys rushed to you grabbed your arms. “Are you alright, princess?” You nodded as he pulled you away from the edge, Tommen rushing over from below deck as well.

The ship was being hit by whatever they had. The arrows that were larger than your own body poking holes in the ship, causing water to get on the deck. More than usual.

“Go to the skiff, with Missandei!” Greyworm yelled at you, pushing you to the skiff. You followed his order, going to track down the woman from Narth

The ship was being hit badly, taking out the sides of the ships. But you couldn’t get far. Not when one of them scared you so badly you fell on your bottom. You hadn’t even told him to follow you or even help you, but Tommen was there, helping you up and guiding you the rest of the way to the smaller boat that was attached to the ship.

But the pillar that held up the sail fell down into the water. “We have to jump in. You said, quickly kicking off your shoes and grabbing his hand walking to the broken edge of a ship.

“Do you know how to swim, Your Grace?” He questioned you.

You only smiled and shook your head. “No. But now’s a great time.” You joked jumping off of the edge, Tommen right behind you.

Unlike the last time your body hit water, you were prepared. You held your breath and closed your eyes. But once you felt the cold ocean water you opened them and began kicking your feet. They weren’t strong kicks, but like always, Tommen came to your side, pulling you above the water.

“Always my knight in shinning armor.” You joked once more. He laughed slightly at your ability to make a joke in such a tense situation. All you knew was that a small boat was coming towards you, and it wasn’t one that you wanted. It was a Greyjoy skiff. Missandei crying on the boat already as they rowed to you both.

“Oh, she’s been waiting to get you.” The man said. Euron.

You grimaced at the sound of his voice. “Your mother has been begging for me to find you and bring you to the Red Keep.”

“Fuck you.” Was your response. But he held out his hand once the boat got close enough, and Tommen looked at you and you knew. You would both drown if you tried to get to the beach, this was your only option. So you reached for his hand as well and he pulled you out of the fourteen year old’s grasp.


	31. Chapter Thirty-One

One of his hands was on your waist, and the other in your hand. The music playing as you stepped the the beat of the song.

Your dress cupped around your shoulders and went behind your neck, much like your mother’s favorite dresses did. But her’s was red, and yours was a deep green, a gift from your uncle. The embroidery on it was striking, the gold in it having caught your eye, even from far away.

The medal around your waist was chainmail connected to the satin. His clothing was very similar, but red with gold.

“I hate this song.”

“Hush, You can request for the musicians to play you want, Joffrey. After.” You said to him, only another week and you’d be able to leave for a whole new place.

“When I am king, no one will play this stupid music.”

He had put emphasis on ‘stupid’ You knew he hated this song, finding that it dragged. But it was a good song to dance too. And Robert wanted people to celebrate the life of Jon Arryn. He was mourning him in his own way. But you had to set an example for the ladies at court.

“You also have to serve your people.”

He spun you on cue with the others dancing in the circle of pairs in the thrones room. Your skirt extended out like an upside down up before Joffrey pulled you back in, a bit too close for comfort, but what choice did you really have? He was your brother, the crowned prince of Westeros.

“You shall be there to advise me.”

You laughed slightly at what you thought was a joke, but when you looked up at him, you knew it wasn’t. His emerald eyes gave you the look of a man who was dead serious.

“I would be married. Probably living in the North, far away from the capitol.”

He shook his head leaning down to your ear, eerily close, “I’ll find a way to have you here with me as well. I will need my sister with me.” His lip brushed against your ear and you moved your head at an awkward angle to get away from his face and hot breath on your neck.

“We’ll see how Robb Stark will feel about being separated from his bride.” You pulled away as the song ended.

* * *

You could feel the heat of the sun hitting your eyelids through your shudders. Your once pitch black vision now bright red.

This was like a sudden rush of deja vu. You remembered once laying in this same bed, this exact same series of events happening in the morning. You had buried yourself in these covers. They still trapped the heat around you. Almost too intoxicating in contrast to the harsh winter snow you had been exposed to recently, and the cold sea that surrounded Dragonstone.

Two weeks. A full fortnight. Only one more and it would truly feel as if you were reliving the past.

Your eyes fluttered open only for you to quickly shut them again and turn away from the window.

When you had been brought here, all they did was put you back in your old room, a handmaiden who you had never seen before, helping you change out of your wet clothes.

Now you wore a cream shift that went to your knees. Some small embroidery here and there in the undergarment.

Every day they brought you food. As of yet, you had not seen your mother. And whenever you closed your eyes you could see your brother. Did his death haunt you? You had once been close, even though he had been cruel. You had been raised like you were twins. Born only eleven months after him, you hadn’t remembered a time he wasn’t there. And you were sure he couldn’t either.

Myrcella’s death haunted you every night. So did Tommen’s. Ned’s did the most damage. You would still have nightmares.

The door opened. You opened your eyes again to see a woman with her back turned to you, the door still wide open as she fumbled around in your wardrobe before pulling out a black Dress.

You wore it after Joffrey’s death. When everyone was ordered to go into a mourning period. You had worn it before then too. At the tourney that welcomed Ned Stark as the hand of the king.

“You should get up. I don’t think your mother would be very happy to be kept waiting.”

You knew her voice. And suddenly it all clicked. The pale pink dress she wore that practically said she was highborn, even though she wasn’t Her hair was done up in a similar highborn fashion as well. And it appeared odd to you.

“Miza?” You questioned, sitting up in your bed.

She turned her head to you and smiled. “Long time, no see. Let’s get you dressed, princess.”

* * *

The dress still fit you perfectly the stretchy material of the dress going over your stomach. Miza had brought in a chest piece of armor. It reminded you of what your mother wore during the battle of the blackwater. But this was part of actual armor. The gold accenting the black. She then brought over a light green piece of satin.

It was put over your left shoulder and she brought it to the right side of your waist, pinning it there with the belt that your sword’s sheath was on.

You reminded yourself of your grandfather. How his Lannister armor had a piece or red fabric that did the same.

“Remember your roots. Remember the child you once where. You always have to ask yourself, with the amount of power that you have, is what you do making that little girl you once were, proud? Excited to be you?” She said pulling some of your hair back into a bun at the back of your head. Leaving the rest hanging loose. Like Jon’s.

“I think she’d be Terrified. Of all the death-“

“Princess.” Miza stopped you, looking you in the eye through the mirror. “I didn’t ask about that. Would she be proud of the person you are today?”

You shook your head. “I killed my own brother, Miza. I’m the one who poisoned him.”

She shook her head. “I know that. I knew that the moment it happened. If you think she’d be terrified of you now, or disappointed. Do your best from here on out to make her proud. To make sure she wouldn’t be disappointed. Create a world where Lucia and this child you carry can grow into, where they are safe.”

“Have I disappointed you?”

She shook her head, taking your face in her hands, like you had done to Tommen and Myrcella many times before. A sisterly gesture.

“You could never.”


	32. Chapter Thirty-Two

You couldn’t help it. The tight embrace you gave your mother once you saw her. Your arms wrapping around her tightly. You hated her. But she was your mother. You had spent your whole life in her protection. Her warm hugs and kisses. The bedtime stories she would tell you. How she would walk you through the garden, and even sometimes take you, Myrcella and Joffrey through the noble parts of the city.

She also wrapped her arms tightly around you, a hand cradling the back of your head. You thought she hated you. For all you had done. So the sniffling came soon after, while trying to hold back tears.

“Shhh, it’s alright my, little lion. There’s no need to cry, come, sit I must tell you something.”

She lead you to a table in the same room, the King’s chambers. Or… rather the Queen’s chambers now.

You both sat as you rubbed the tears away from your eyes.

“When I was a girl… I was once told that I would have four children. I did. And every one was beautiful. But I was also told that, only one would survive.”

You furrowed your brows and shook your head “Why are you telling me this?”

“Your brothers and sister are gone. You’re the survivor. I will not let anything happen to you my little lion. You are my heir. And Lucia is yours. Once the Targaryen is defeated I will send for her.”

You shook your head. “No. I’m the Lady of Highgarden. If I go anywhere after the war It’s there. Or Casterly Rock. Or I’ll go back to the North. Lucia is a northerner by blood.”

Cersei sighed. “We can figure that out, after. For now we sit and wait for the battle.”

“Forgive me, Princess.” You looked over to your left to see Qyburn looking at you. “You’re with child? Correct?”

“Correct” You said cautiously, looking at the shunned maester as he walked over to you, grabbing a small box from another table and setting it down next you on the ground.

“Let me examine you, make sure your child is in proper shape.” You only nodded and let him go through his examinations, holding your mother’s hand in the process.

“How far along are you?”

“I don’t know… Five moons?”

He looked at you with raised brows. You always did like Qyburn better than Pycell who always… smelled of a dead cat.

“You’re far too large to be only five months. Even with your second child.”

“Thanks.” It was heavily sarcastic, a glare coming onto your face.

He then thought of something “You could be carrying twins.” You sighed heavily. Not one, but two. Gods you just hoped that is was extra weight. After what Pycell told you about having any more children. This pregnancy was a risk. Two? You would certainly die then. Wouldn’t you?

You could see Dragon from here. Flying. Destroying the scorpions your mother had set up to combat him. The same ones that took down Rhegal. The smoke rose up from the walls. And you instinctively rested a hand on your stomach in protectiveness. Wanting to protect your unborn child. Or… children.

“Your Grace.” Qyburn greeted, walking back into the room.

“All we need is one good shot.” Your mother said confidently.

“All the scorpions have all been destroyed, Your Grace.”

You looked down at the red stone. The stone that was older than you would ever get. It would outlive you.

Cersei let out a small, short breath in frustration. “The Iron Fleet hold Blackwater Bay. Euron killed one of her dragons. He can kill another.”

You turned to Qyburn, who gave you a small nod to assure what you thought was true. “Your Grace, The Iron Fleet is burning.”

Shouldn’t you want to be running out? Defeating your mother’s armies? Or was this an instinctive survival skill? To stay away from danger when pregnant?

No, that couldn’t be the case. You had fought at Winterfell.

You felt safe here.

You’d grown up here, it was the only constant in your life. So was your mother.

“The gates have been breached. The Golden Company-“

“Our men will fight harder than sellswords ever could. They will defend their queen and princess to the last man.”

You turned back to the city, the smoke rising into the sky. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“The Red Keep has never fallen. It won’t fall today.”

“Bring my me my squire.” You said to Qyburn.

“Squire?”

“The boy! The blond haired boy! Brown eyes? Freckles everywhere? Euron picked him up with me?”

Qyburn made an ‘o’ face and nodded. “He’s currently fighting with the Iron Fleet.”

“What?”

He was only fourteen. A child. He shouldn’t be fighting. He had your blood in him, no matter how distant it was. He looked nothing like Tommen, but their names were the same and whenever you saw him you saw your brother. And you couldn’t imagine him jumping into water from a burning ship.

“You better pray to all the gods in every story that he’s alive.”

He wasn’t your squire. But you knew it would be the only good lie you could say to get them to hand him over to you.

* * *

They were screaming for your mother to ring the bells. The god awful things you heard ring for Robert, Joffrey, and Tywin.

They rang that awful sound in the air. But she burned it. She burned homes to the ground. She did what she said she wouldn’t.

She was a true Targaryen now. You knew she would be just like Aegon the Conqueror. Because she claimed she wouldn’t. Your father told you that Targaryens where not reliable.

Drogon flew close to the keep now. Screeching all the while, He took out a tower. Your tower. The one you had insisted on taking as your room. Your mouth was agape as you looked on in horror at the room you had once found comfort in as a child.

But the sound of shattering made you jump. You looked to the table when your mother did to see a light that had once been on the ceiling now on the ground, and your mother’s wine glass shattered.

Qyburn rushed in, past the mountain who still terrified you every moment he was in your presence.

“Your Grace, it isn’t safe here any longer.”

“The Red keep is the safest place in the city.” Cersei said to him, one her hands fidgeting to get something off of her hand. She took your hands shakily and put something on your right ring finger.

Looking down you saw her ring. The ring made of the inside of a rock. Your hands were the same size. And so were your fingers. It fit you perfectly.

“The Unsullied have breeched the gates of the Red Keep. Maegor’s Holdfast would be a better place to wait out the storm.”

You looked up at your mother as he approached. She was crying. And so were you. “Mother, we have to go. I will not let you die in this place.” You said.

She grabbed your hand tightly, and took hold of one of Qyburn’s, he rushed you both ahead of him to get out of the palace.

You rushed down the stairs hand in hand with your mother. You had to hope Missandei was safe somewhere. She was sweet and kind. She stood for what she believed in, all you could say was that you respected her. And she didn’t deserve to die because of a building falling on top of her.

The stairs shook and your mother pulled you close to her. Your head on her chest as she held you like she would as if you were a child. And you couldn’t lie, you were as afraid as one.

Suddenly the roof started to cave in at one spot.

“Move!” One of the men of the Queen’s guard yelled. You mother pushed you down into a crouching position underneath her own, she was acting as a shield. Was she so intent on going out like a lioness protecting her young? Even when her young wasn’t all so young anymore?

The mountain stood over her to protect her, a game of nesting dolls against the wall of the keep. A wall you had see so many times before it had never even been funny.

when the ceiling finally stopped falling down on you all you all stood, She pulled you up with her, holding your hand in hers as she looked around. Dirt in her hair as well as yours.

Turning to the bottom of the stairs you saw Sandor. Looking up at you all. “Your Grace. Princess.” He greeted before looking to his brother.

Two of the queen’s guards came rushing toward him, but he took them out as quickly as they came, “Hello, Big Brother.” He said to his brother.

The Mountain took a step down to meet the shorter brother.

“Ser Gregor, stay by my side.” Your mother ordered, still having you in a firm grip, protective as she herself was shaking. You were sure it didn’t help that you were as well. Miza was right behind Qyburn, looking on in awe.

The large man stopped, looking back at your mother, and through his helmet you could see his blood shot eyes and dead looking skin. It sickened you to see it.

“Ser Gregor, I command you!”

“Obey your queen, Ser Gregor.” Qyburn copied going to get in front of the large, almost unrealistically tall man.

You let out a gasp as the man grabbed Qyburn by the neck and slammed him against the stone wall that remained, his skull caving and cracking under the preasure, blood spilling everywhere before he threw him to the ground, more blood flying.

Miza reached behind your mother grabbing your hand that your mother had let go in order to be holding you.

You gave the older woman of a few years a gentle squeeze, as Sandor walked up the steps in order to meet his brother.

Your mother ushered you to go, so you began moving down the stairs, avoiding the fallen stone on your way down.

You turned around a corner, Your mother grabbing onto the stone railing of a hang off that over looked a new painting. A map of Westeros. Miza had one hand and your mother, the other.

You where by the Hand’s office quarters. The one your grandfather had spent most of his time in.

Some of the place was set on fire in corridor, the dragon screeching was so loud it hurt your ears and the dirt and dust fell on top of your hair and shoulders, covering the stomach and knees of your dress.

Your mother stopped in the center of the painting, looking around in a panic, like she was looking for the best course of action. She had always known the way to go. Your entire life she knew. But now she didn’t. And It scared you.

But then she stopped, and looked to a pillar. There stood your father, dirtied and bleeding. His gold hand against the cream colored pillar.

Your mother sobbed and Jaime rushed to her, pulling her in for a tight hug, and quickly he grabbed you too. You hadn’t even noticed the sobs that had been racking your body as the castle was being destroyed.

You were in a tight embrace with your family. One that could be your very last. Jaime pulled away, looking you both over, one hand on your mother’s cheek and the other on yours.

“You’re hurt.” You mother was able to get out. “It doesn’t matter.”

Suddenly you became very aware of the warm liquid falling on to your hand that had been around your father, and so did Cersei. You both looked down to see your hands covered in his blood. “You’re bleeding.” You cried.

A large cloud of ruble hit the ground and turned into a rising pile of dust. Jaime looked away to the way he had came, He had one hand on your mother’s hand and the other around your shoulders keeping you close as you kept the hand that your mother’s ring was on tightly intertwined with Miza’s as he lead you back to his entry way to the palace.

He took you the very bottom of the keep. Where the relics of the Targaryens where kept. The old dragon skulls and decor that had once been in the Throne Room. That was a time before your birth. A time you couldn’t even fathom.

You were all in a line, holding each other’s hands. Miza at the dead end, right behind you as ruble broke through the floor above. Falling only a few feet behind her. She gasped and ran up next you. Hooking arms to stay closer.

“This way.” He ushered going past Balerion The Dread’s skull.

You broke hands with your mother when you saw the only exit, blocked by the ruble of the keep that had fallen.

“No, mother.” You begged “Father there has to be another way.”

You didn’t want to die here. Not here in the keep. You wanted to see Lucia again. You wanted to tell her all the stories she had asked about. You wanted to tell her she was getting a new baby brother or sister. Or even both. Or maybe two of one. You wanted Jon to be able to hold his second child right after they were born.

But all of that looked like a dream now. Where you going to see your family? Would Joanna welcome you first. Say that she had always wanted to meet you? Even if she had died when your mother was only four?

Would Tywin say he was proud of you? Or would her scold you for being reckless?

What about Joffrey? Would he forgive you for what you did. No of course not.

What about Myrcella? Would she tell you all about how she loved Trystane? Or how she loved Sun Spear’s gardens? You hoped she had enjoyed the sun that was even more vibrant than in King’s Landing.

What about Tommen? Would he say how he loved you, that no matter what you did he would always stand beside you?

And Ned? Would he thank you for protecting his daughters? Would Catelyn?

Would Robb say he should have known that you’d be a stubborn little shit and not die till you had too?

He always liked to poke fun at how stubborn you were. In Winterfell, even though you had only just met, he teased you for it.

Would your ancestors be proud? That their name ended with you? A female who was too stubborn to let anything get to her? Would Lann the Clever just nod to you in approval?

Would Robert just huff and give you a pat on the back?

You hoped to whatever god was truly out there to let Lucia live a long and full live. To Let her love and hate. Let her experience happiness after you were gone. And sadness so she will always cherish the happy moments.

You begged for her to be loved so dearly by a man she loved back. You hoped for that man to be everything she wanted and needed. Everything you wanted for her.

You hoped Jon, if he was still alive in the city could take good care of her. Teach her the lessons you never got too. Teach her all the house names and words, where they’re from and their histories.

If not, you hoped Sansa was able to. You hoped she would sew her beautiful dresses that could a fool a man into thinking she was a weak winter rose, when in reality, your little girl survived something she shouldn’t have. And that she was as stubborn as you. Any man would realize that soon enough.

You hoped she didn’t grieve you. You hoped she would go on well. That she would continue playing with Ser Robb in her chambers at night when she should be playing.

You had completely blocked everything out as Miza pulled you away, and back to the skull of Balerion. The dragon so large it scared entire kingdoms to kneel. She dragged up into the dragon’s skull through where the neck had once been. She pulled you down into her arms as you cried and prayed. No matter how much your mother had told you it didn’t matter

Would you finally see them all after death? Everyone you had once wondered about? Gods you hoped so. You hoped you could. You hoped you could ask them questions about what they thought you had done wrong. You hoped you could cry at your siblings feet and beg for forgiveness for not being there. For poisoning Joffrey, for letting Myrcella go, for leaving Tommen in King’s Landing alone.

But it all passed as stone fell around you and outside of the skull.


	33. Chapter Thirty-Three

The stone finally stopped, but your sobs kept racking through your bones, making you shake, making your cheeks itch and your nose burn.

But finally, you stood up and out of Miza’s arms, walking out of Balrion’s skull. “Mother?”

You walked to where you had parted from you mother and father, where Miza had pulled you away in a rush right before the stone could have crushed you. There was only a pile of rubble where they had been. So you went to search under it, hoping they were only knocked out. That you wouldn’t loose them too.

But then you saw the light watch on something gold. You saw the hand on the ground. The prosthetic that your father had been given so many years ago. You shook your head. Bending down to push the ruble away, throwing the stones behind you, and then you saw your mother’s face. Covered in ash, dirt and dust. Blood on her head. “No” You begged, uncovering her whole body and your father’s.

“No, please.” You cried, dragging both their heads into your lap as you sat on the ruble of the castle you had once known. “Mother, please. I’ll do anything. Anything you want! I’ll give up fighting I’ll do anything! Please. Father please, Don’t leave me here all alone in the world, please! Don’t leave me and uncle Tyrion to be the only Lannisters, please!” You begged and sobbed shaking their shoulders furiously.

But they didn’t respond. Your mother had always responded when you tried to wake her up. And Jaime had always been responsive to you. He had been the one in charge of protecting you.

“Please. Please, don’t leave me here. Everyone else is gone. I can’t loose you too.” You cried softly.

But they didn’t answer. And you knew. You knew who’s fault this was. You knew who you had to kill.

You had to follow in your father’s footsteps. Jaime of the House Lannister killed the Mad King Aerys II, now you Y/N of the House Lannister had to kill The Queen of the Ashes, Daenerys I. Your father was a Kingslayer. You’d be a Queenslayer. And you’d avenge your fallen parents.

You took your father’s golden hand. Holding it in yours. It had been made to fit the same size of his other one. So you placed your palm against it. Even now, even in your twenties, as a grown woman, your hand wasn’t even two thirds of his.

“Princess- I am so sorry” Miza said to you, standing away from the ruble that had fallen of the Queen and Lord.

“Everyone I’ve known since I was a child. Is dead. Except for Varys. Tyrion met me when I was four. Everything I’ve known since I was a child… Is gone.”

Miza stood up straight then. She always was the kind of woman who saw things as they were, clear as day.

“You are Y/N, of the houses Baratheon, Lannister, and Tyrell. You represent all the bastards in this city. And do you know what you will do?”

You looked up at her, she was your closest friend since you were thirteen. She shook your head no, in confusion.

“You have lost everything, yes. You lost a husband, two fathers, all siblings, friends, and a mother. Most of the Lannisters are gone. Only two left in the whole world. You will represent the survivors. The men and women who survived Daenerys Targaryen’s slaughter of King’s Landing. And you will avenge every man, woman and child burned alive or crushed to death in this city.”

You nodded. “A Lannister always pays her debts.” You mumbled pushing your mother and father’s hair from their faces. Hair you got from them. And you knew that at the end of this all, when you buried them in a crypt, they would have a title other than their names.

Jaime Lannister ‘The Protector’

Cersei Lannister ‘The Lioness’

* * *

You left with Tyrion and Miza. He had to convince you to leave, he had cried and thrown bricks while Miza helped you up from your spot. You took the dirtied gold hand with you when you left. Holding it close to you. As you left. Miza right beside you like she had been when she had first been assigned your hand maiden. But you knew this wasn’t because she felt obligated to keep up the duties she performed for you before. This was because she, like so many of the others, believed in you. And even now. You didn’t know why.

Ash fell like snow. But it wasn’t cold. It had the strange and off putting feeling of being warm. And when you stepped out you could smell the burnt city. It stung your nose, but you kept your composure.

She spoke Valyrian to her men, wearing her black dress, her silk on her shoulder hanging down to her waist such a dark red it almost looked like an eggplant purple. Her silver a stark contrast to her outfit and the city around her that was still burning.

You could see Jon as you walked. His back turned to you as he looked at the army. You had acquired two cuts on your face from bricks having gotten into the skull through the empty eye socket. The blood smeared away and staining a certain spot on your hair.

Your dress and face covered in ash. Your pregnancy now completely clear to the eye as you walked ahead of Tyrion.

You didn’t understand Valyrian, but you understood it couldn’t be good. Not with the way she was shouting as you stood on the side lines, taking your spot next to Jon, and Miza took her’s next to you.

He looked at your ash covered face, looking at the golden hand you were holding and he knew. He rested a hand on your lower back to sooth the aching heart you had. But It didn’t work. This had to be a true heart break. You could practically feel it shatter when you saw them.

Tyrion took a step away from you all, walking to the Targaryen’s side and looking at her with a harsh glare.

She spoke to him when he looked out at the Unsullied and Dothracki as they made the loudest noises you ever heard come from this city.

“I freed my brother. And you slaughtered a city.”

Daenerys turned to him, her full body facing him now, brows furrowed in confusion as if she didn’t know what she did wrong.

Tyrion pulled the hand of the queen pin off of his shirt and threw it. The sound of it clattering down the steps make the unsullied and Dothraki stop shouting and hammering their spears into the ground from the butt of them.

She spoke to her men in Valyrian and the next moment two unsullied started taking him away. You assumed as a prisoner.

Daenerys stared at you intently, before at the golden hand you held by the golden wrist, so tightly that your knuckles had turned as what as snow. She only smirked at you before leaving with some of her men.

You followed. She made you a Queen’s gaurd. That meant your job was to protect her. But your job was to the realm. Like Varys’. To protect the people. And you hadn’t been able to.

Miza stayed behind. With Jon.

* * *

What remained of the castle broke you. Because if you had just stayed in one of these halls. Any one of them you could have your parents with you now. Alive and well. But you didn’t Because of her.

But here you sat, in a pantry that was once where they prepped some of the family food. Not giant feasts. Just some dinners. You and Miza had stolen some lemon cakes and pies once, taking them back to Tommen’s room where he and Miza where waiting.

Jon came in shortly after you had. Ending your awkward silence between you and your uncle. “Did you bring any wine?” Is what Tyrion chose to ask.”

“Oh, that reminded me.” You said taking out a small flask of wine you had slipped while you were with your mother in her chambers. Throwing it to him. He caught it with ease and nodded to you.

“Thank you for coming to see me. Both of you. Our queen doesn’t keep prisoners for long.”

You nodded. “You’re the only other Lannister alive. I’m obligated to try and get you out.” Tyrion smiled sadly “A true Lannister you are.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I suppose there’s a crude kind of justice. I betrayed my closest friend and watched him burn. Now Varys’s ashes can tell my ashes: “See, I told you.”

You caught your attention. You quickly looked at him and you could feel the tears prick at your eyes again. You truly had lost everyone from your childhood?

“It just occurred to me. I’m talking to the only man alive who knows where I’m going.” Jon sighed at that. “So is there life after death?”

Jon shook his head “Not that I’ve seen.” Tyrion only nodded “I should be thankful. Oblivion is the best I could hope for. I strangled my lover. I shot my own father with a crossbow. I betrayed my queen.”

You looked to the ground by your feet, resting a hand on your stomach.

“You didn’t.” Jon reassured your uncle, “I did.” Tyrion said quickly after. “And I’d do it again now that I’ve seen what I’ve seen.”

The sound of the bells. The sound of the dragon still burning down your city. Add it to the things that would haunt your sleep for years to come.

“I chose my fate. The people of King’s Landing did not.”

“I can’t justify what happened. I won’t try. But the war is over now.”

“Is it?” You questioned. “The war has never truly been over. It’s been raging since the first Targaryen set foot on this land. Greyworm told me she wants to conquer the world. If that isn’t what a Tyrant would do, I don’t know what is. A tyrant never stops wars. They just keep them going.”

Tyrion stood from his spot on the ground and walked over to where you were sat, on top of a full cask of donnish wine.

“You always did remind me of Lann the Clever. Just… younger and more like your mother.”

You gave your uncle a sad smile, tears coming to your eyes just at the thought of your mother’s face. The face you had always looked too as a child for help.

He then turned to Jon who was facing you both “She liberated the people of Slaver’s Bay. She liberated the people of King’s Landing. And she’ll go on liberating until the people of the world are free… And she rules them all.”

“And you’ve been by her side, counseling her. Until today.”

“Until today.” Tyrion confirmed

“She’s never listened. What sane person doesn’t listen to their advisors?”

Jon gave you a look. One you knew well from Joffrey and Robert. The look that told you to shut up. So you did. Looking to your stomach, stroking it with your thumb.

“Varys was right. I was wrong. It was vanity to think I could guide her. Our queen’s nature is Fire and Blood.”

“You think our house words are stamped on our bodies when we’re born and that’s who we are? Then I’d be fire and blood too.”

You picked yourself up from the top of the cask, seeing that Jon was getting riled up, You snaked your arm behind his back, the other making him look at you “He didn’t mean that. They’re not in your nature. They’re in her’s.” You calmed him, feeling his arm grab tightly at your hip, pulling you close into his side.

“She’s not her father. No more than you’re Tywin Lannister.” Jon shot back to your uncle,

“My father was an evil man. My sister was an evil woman. Pile up all the bodies of all the people they ever killed, there still won’t be half as many as our beautiful queen slaughtered in a single day.”

“Cersei left her no choice.”

That was when you pulled back away from him. Keeping more than an arm’s distance away. “My mother and my father are dead, Jon. Because of her. Even I can admit that my mother was an awful, awful woman. A hateful bitch. So were plenty of the men and women she burned alive today. If some of them had the power my mother did some would have killed long ago. But they are dead. Along with my mother. Their families weep for them. I weep for my mother and you have the audacity to say my mother was asking for it?” You demanded

Jon looked at you “Y/N, I didn’t mean it like that. But Daenerys saw her friend beheaded, she saw her dragon shot out of the sky.”

“My mother watched her son die! In her arms! Joffrey was gasping for air begging for his life! She lost everything too! A daughter! Two sons! And a father! Every night she didn’t see me after Tywin was killed she was worried out of her mind for me and Lucia! But if my mother had heard bells ringing in surrender she would have stopped! Did your queen do that?”

“Aye, It’s hard to judge when you’re standing far from the battlefield.”

“Would you have done it?” You asked.

* * *

She stood with her back turned to you and Jon, facing the Iron Throne. The retched thing.

“When I was a girl, my brother told me it was made 1000 swords from Aegon’s fallen enemies. What do a thousand swords look like in the mind of a little girl who can’t count to twenty? I imagined a mountain of swords too high to climb. So many fallen enemies you could only see the soles of Aegon’s feet.”

“Did you have you men execute the opposing Lannister men?” You questioned. “They said they were acting on your orders.” Jon added.

She looked at you awkwardly before back at Jon “It was necessary.”

“Necessary? You do know their true loyalty lied with me? If they knew I sided with you they would have as well.”

“Children. Younger than my own daughter! Burned!” Jon yelled at her.

“I tried to make peace with Cersei. She used their innocences as a weapon against me. She thought it would cripple me.”

“But it didn’t.” You sneered.

She looked at you sternly. “I assume he told you. About his parentage.” She said, standing straight, hands clasped together.

“I was the first one he told.”

She nodded and looked at Jon before back at you, forcing a smile “Your daughter is a Targaryen now. I have made it so. And I will name her my heir. To my throne and to my dragon once I am gone.”

You could feel your heart slow for a moment before picking up pace. She wouldn’t have her. She wouldn’t take your daughter from you.

She stepped towards you, only a few inches in front of you. “I will take her, and Jon on my conquest to free the world.”

You did it quick, pulling the blade from your belt, stabbing her in the stomach. She sucked in a breath but she didn’t scream.

“You’ve taken everything I had when I was child. I will not let you take what I found after.” You said, letting her drop to the ground.

Small amounts of blood came from her nose and mouth, slowly sliding down her cheeks. Your mother would have done it. Jaime, Robert, Tywin. Every last one of them. 

You learned from the men and women before you. From stories, myth and truth. Everyone from your history would have done it. Everyone you looked up to.

Jon pulled you back once he heard the sounds of the dragon yelling as he flew up to your position, landing on the almost fully crumbled stone.

The dragon growled at the body of his mother on the ground. Eyeing Jon suspiciously.

He nudged the silver haired Targaryen, as if begging her to get up. Like you had with your own mother only hours before. Shaking her body begging her to stay here with you. But this was revenge. And everyone got hurt in revenge.

Drogon snarled and bared his teeth at Jon who was hiding you behind him as the dragon rose above you letting out such a large roar you swear Darrio could hear it from Meereen.

The dragon opened his mouth and you could see the orange glow at the back of his throat. The same you’d seen one of his brothers give you in the belly of the palace of Meereen.

He let loose, spitting fire through the air. Jon shielded you from it, standing over you and pushing you into a crouching position.

Drogon stopped and you both looked up at him before he let loose again, this time setting the throne aflame. Melting it into a molten lava like substance.

All you could be was thankful. Thankful that that awful thing your brothers sat on was melted down. That it wouldn’t terrorize the kingdoms any longer.

Drogon picked his mother up with his hind leg, flying away with her.

The Lion’s roared and the birds would fly away. You had found that many birds still seemed to like their spot here in your ancestral home.

* * *

Jon had taken the blame for killing Daenerys. And was locked up. They set a trial for Tyrion in months from then. So you decided to go somewhere you had never been before.

Casterly Rock.

There were Lion Cages where lions and their mates would stay. The steward of Casterly rock having taken care of them since Greyworm had left with his men when the Iron Fleet attacked.

You took to staying in the main courtyard. Often wondering if your mother and father had ever stood this very spot. If Tywin had.

You had brought your mother and father’s bodies here with you. Burying them in the crypts. Right next their mother. Joanna. A woman who everyone told you, you had looked like. That you both had the courage to be free.

The Lion’s roars often shook the ground beneath your feet. It gave you peace of mind. You felt like one of them. Two new lion cubs right beside you in a moving bassinet. The brown eyed, golden hair girl was named after your mother. Her nose matching Cersei’s perfectly. And the emerald eyed one, golden hair, you had named for your sister.

Lucia was still in Winterfell. A place you deemed safest for her. Knowing she wouldn’t like the lions here. You trusted Sansa with her. And you knew that you’d see her at the trial.

The fussing caught your ear. Turning to look down at the bassinet you could see Cersei whining. You smiled and picked her up, holding her close. Taking in the newborn baby smell you had always loved about Lucia.

“It’s okay my love. Everyone is watching over you. All the kings and queens of The Rock, Tywin Lannister, Jaime, Joanna. My mother, who you are named for. I am here. And your father will be too. And your sister will love to meet you soon.” You whispered to her.

She quieted down, keeping her brown eyes closed. Her hand grabbing at the collar of your black dress.

“Your Grace.” Tommen greeted walking to you through a corridor. “We received a raven. They would like you in your wheelhouse as soon as possible and to head to King’s Landing.

You sighed and looked down at the small bundle you didn’t expect to live to see. “I guess you’ll meet them soon.” You said.

“Have Miza pack us bags. I’ll ready the wheelhouse.”

You had the castle all to yourselves. Only some of your men from the battle of Winterfell there guarding it.

“Yes, Your Grace.” He said leaving to tell Miza of her job. You placed your daughter back into her bassinet and began pushing them back to your chambers. Chambers that you had taken for yourself. Having once been your grandfather’s. You had worn dresses that your mother left. Red and gold.

* * *

The dragon pit was quiet. The high lords and ladies of the greatest houses in Westeros staring at your uncle.

“Where’s Jon?” Sansa broke the silence. Sitting elegantly in her seat, You sat in a similar fashion. Your vibrant white dress with a red and gold satin piece across your shoulder, kept in place at your hips by a small belt.

“He is our prisoner.”

“So is my uncle. They were both to be brought here. If this is a sort of trial.” You sneered. Scrunching up your nose when you said ‘trial’

“We will decide what we do with our prisoners. This is our city now.”

“If you look outside the walls of your city, you’ll find thousands of Northmen who will explain to you why harming Jon Snow is not in your interest.”

“And you will find thousands of Unsullied who believe that it is.”

“Some of you may be quick to forgive. The Ironborn are not. I swore to follow Daenerys Targaryen.”

“You swore to follow a tyrant.” Sansa shot back to Yara.

“She freed us from a Tyrant. Cersei is gone because of her, and Jon Snow put a knife in her heart. Let the Unsullied give him what he deserves.” Yara spat

You felt Tommen place a hand on your wrist in a gentle manner. Trying to give you some courage to say something. But you already had something to say.

“Say another word about killing my brother and I’ll cut your throat.”

“Enough.” You said sternly, standing from your seat. “Haven’t we all had enough? Lost enough? Given enough of ourselves in battles, into fights that seemed unwinable? We are from the greatest houses of all of Westeros and we arguing like children over a toy. We are all adults now. Most of us were children when the war of the five kings started. They argued like children. Learn from them. Realize that all of them are dead.” You said taking your seat again.

Davos thanked the Unsullied after you had sat down and he had stood up, to say what he wanted to say. “There is land in the reach. Good land. The people that used to live there are gone. Make it your own, start your own house with the Unsullied as your bannermen. Lady Lannister said it perfectly. We’ve had enough war. Thousands of you, thousands of them. You know how it ends. We need to find a better way.”

“We do not need payment. We need justice. Jon Snow cannot go free.” Davos sat back down.

“It’s not for you to decide.” Tyrion muttered.

“You are not here to speak!” Greyworm shouted, making you flinch. “Everyone has heard enough words from you.”

“You’re right.” Tyrion nodded. “And no one’s any better for it. But it’s not for you to decide. Jon committed his crime here. His fate is for our king to decide. Or our queen.”

“We don’t have a king or queen.” Ser Royce said.

“You’re the most powerful people in Westeros. Choose one.”

Greyworm struggled for a minute. “Make your choice, then.”

Everyone fell quiet. Not a single word spoken. Everyone looking around awkwardly.

Edmure Tully stood and walked forward.

“My lords and ladies… I suppose this is the most important moment of our lives. What we decide today will reverberate through the annals of history. I stand before you as one of the senior lords in the country. A veteran of two wars. And I like to think my experience has led to some small skill in statecraft and underst-“

“Uncle?” Sansa asked “Please, sit.” She said.

You smiled a little at that. Something you would have said to Jaime or Tyrion if they had been embarrassing you when you were younger.

Edmure took his seat again.

“Well, we have to choose someone.”

Samwell then asked “Why just us?” Everyone stared at him for a moment before he stood, in a socially awkward manner as he began to speak to get his point across. “We represent all the great houses, but whomever we choose, they won’t just rule over lords and ladies. Maybe the decision about what’s best for everyone should be left to… well… Everyone.”

Two men who sat next to Lord Arryn started to laugh, and you let out small chuckles as Tommen did the same.

“Maybe we should give the dogs a vote as well.” Edmure suggested snarkily.

“I’ll ask my horse.” Ser Royce joked.

You all quieted down again before Edmure said something. “I suppose you want the crown then?” He asked Tyrion

“Me? The Imp? Half the people hate me for serving Daenerys, the other half hate me for betraying her. Can’t think of a worse choice.”

“Who, then?” Davos asked

“I’ve had nothing to do but think these past few months. About our bloody history. About the mistakes we’ve made. What united people? Armies? Gold? Flags? Stories of perseverance.”

You had been intently staring at a scuff in the armor of Tommen’s knee pads thinking of how you would fix it that you didn’t notice the intense stare from everyone. But Tommen nudged you. And you looked up to see your uncle staring in you in the eyes.

“There’s nothing more powerful in the world.”

You shook your head slightly. “Nothing can stop it. No enemy can defeat it. And who has a better story of perseverance… Than Y/N the Unyielding? He had turned back to you after looking at Greyworm.

“A girl who was told she was nothing by her brother when she bore a bastard’s bastard. A girl who never once stopped fighting him. A girl who had to learn from the people around her to survive. She never once gave up. Knowing she had too survive. A girl who lived among the people and who refused to let Daenerys burn food that was coming into the city for the people, because she’d been with them in those streets before. and had seen them starve. 

She became a queen to some. A nuisance to others. But yet, she still fought for what she believed in. She is our courage. The brave woman of many houses who have claimed her. Baratheon, Lannister, Tyrell, Stark. Plenty of other houses who would let her take their name. Who better to lead those houses into a new age?”

You stayed quiet. “She will raise her daughters well. Letting them be better than her. As she is better than her mother. She will not let them become cruel or stupid. And she will decide which child is most worthy of the throne when her youngest comes of age.” Tyrion turned to Greyworm “That is the wheel our queen hoped to break.”

“For now on, rulers will not just be a first born son. It will be the most worthy child of the crown. And if none of them are deemed worthy. We will vote like this. Once more.”

Tyrion stepped forward to you, and you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes. “I know you don’t want it. I know you’re scared of that power. But, my darling niece. I ask you, If we give you the crown… Will you rule them all? Justly? Will you lead the Seven Kingdoms to the best of your abilities from this day until your last day?”

You nodded “I will protect every man and woman in this country as best as I can.”

Tyrion smiled at you and you gave him a pained smile back. “To Y/N of the houses-“

“Baratheon.” Gendry interrupted. Tyrion smiled and added

“And Lannister.”

“And Tyrell.” You choked out

“And Stark.” Arya said after.

Tyrion nodded “I say aye.”

A large gap of silence came before Samwell spoke “Aye.”

“Aye.” Edmure said after.

The man next to Edmure and Samwell mimicked them.

“Aye.” Ser Royce said firmly.

Robin Arryn and the other man said the said.

The prince of Dorne, Yara Greyjoy and her confidant. Gendry said the same and it made you want to cry. That all these people believed in you that, even when given the choice between you and any of them they still chose you.

“I’m not sure I get a vote, but aye.” Davos said with a smile. Brienne did as well.

But Sansa didn’t, and all it did was make you smile. Knowing what she was about to say.

“Y/N… I think of you as my best friend, and as much as a sister as Arya. I love you, I always have, you’ll be the best queen. But tens of thousands of Northmen fell in the great war defending all of Westeros. And those who survived have seen too much and fought too hard ever to kneel again.”

You smiled and stood. “The north, under my rule of the six kingdoms, I can guarantee you, will remain an independent kingdom.” You said to her. “You’re all too stubborn to keep under control anyway.” You joked. It earned a few chuckles as you say, and Sansa smiled at you.

“All hail Y/N the Unyielding First of her name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Lady of the Six Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

Everyone stood and repeated the title Tyrion had given you. “All hail, Y/N the Unyielding.”

Tyrion went to walk away but you called out for him “Uncle!” He stopped and turned to you. “We may have had our differences. But you are my family. And I’d be as big a fool as Joffrey not to take you as my Hand.”

“N-no. Your Grace, I don’t want it.”

“Does any Hand? I can’t think of a man more wise than you. Who would offer me counsel that I will listen to and take every ounce into consideration. Besides, I don’t want to be queen, and we don’t always get what we want.”

“Choose anyone else.” Tyrion begged.

“I choose you.” You insisted

“You cannot!” Greyworm spat viscously.

“Yes, I can. Everyone here, made me a Queen.” You said calmly.

“This man is a criminal.”

“Aren’t we all? He deserves justice. Of course. But, sometimes justice is served by letting people work everyday to make up for those mistakes. Or to let them live with it. Let them think about what they did.”

* * *

You had your plan. Knowing the Unsullied would start a war if you let Jon go, you told them you’d send him to the wall. And you were. To deliver supplies to the free folk who had gone back north. And when he was on his way back, the Unsullied should be gone. Gone from Westeros completely.

You hadn’t been allowed to see him after he took the blame for you. They banned you from seeing him. So when the door to his cell opened up and you saw him, your heart nearly broke into tiny pieces. Seeing the love of your life dirtied and hungry like he was. “Jon?” You questioned.

He looked up from the floor to you and his eyes lit up, He stood up and rushed to you, scooping you into a hug.

But he quickly pulled away and looked at your stomach in concern. “Did you loose the baby?” You could hear the tears in his voice. You shook you head. “No. I gave birth the them. Two.”

His eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “Girls.” You confirmed “Cersei and Myrcella.”

“I missed it again.” He said disappointed, his face falling. “I should have been there. I promised myself I would be by your side.”

You shook you head, cupping his cheeks. “Next time. But I have something to tell you. You have to do me one huge favor before I can let you go.”

* * *

You stood next to Sansa, Arya and Bran who decided to wait with you. With the ship that would take Jon to the north. To the wall where he would ensure the free folk were safe.

Lucia holding onto your dress. Sansa holding Cersei and you holding Myrcella.

“Papa!” Lucia screamed happily running over to her father who scooped her up as soon as she got close enough “My darling girl.” He said to her, holding her close him as he approached you.

He set Lucia down when he got all the way to you, looking down at the golden haired baby in your arms. “Myrcella.” You confirmed. “Do you want to hold her?” You asked. He only nodded, speechless as you handed the small bundle to him.

“A dozen. We need a dozen of them.” He joked in a very serious manner. “We’ll see.” You said watching as he admired his new daughter before looking at Sansa and waving her over so he could look at Cersei. “They’re both beautiful.” He said aloud. “I will return, and when I do, You’ll have a crown.”

You nodded, “So I will. If you don’t want to be king. We could only marry. You don’t need to have a coronation.”

He nodded “As soon as I return.” He said. “And then you can add Targaryen to your list of houses.”

You laughed “A secret one.” You joked, taking Cersei from Sansa as Jon pulled you and Lucia into a hug. “I will be back before you know it, my love.”

“All of this, This family. All because I beat you a sparing match.”

* * *

This was your small counsel. Tyrion as your hand. Samwell Tarly as your grandmaester, See Bronn of Blackwater and Lord of Brightwater keep. Lord Davos, your master of ships and See Brienne of Tarth, your Lady Commander of the Queensguard.

You smiled as Sam placed a book in front of Tyrion, you yourself curious as to its contents. “What’s this?”

“A Song of Ice and Fire. Archmaester Ebrose’s history of the wars following the death of King Robert. I helped him with the title.”

You smiled as Sam took his seat. “Pass it over.” You commanded. Tyrion smiled when he saw your own. He slid it back, before sliding it to you from his side.

This was the written history of everyone’s pains. Everyone’s heartaches through the eight years of misery that was brought upon you all. Your election marked the end of that era. The birth of your twins seemed to have brought the robins and sparrows that you had once loved so much as a child back.

You remembered when they had all of a sudden been replaced by tanagers. The red ones that seemed too frighten little Lucia whenever she had seen them in the garden.

You remembered the book your mother read you.

“And the sorceress told her, Robins, and Sparrows. New beginning and hope. But watch out for the red small ones. They are a bright brilliant scarlet. When they are gone and replaced with Robins and Sparrows, you know then, that you are safe once more.”

An end of a painful era, and the beginning of something new.


End file.
